


Turn to Your Right

by Rysler



Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: 1990s, Alternate Universe - 1990s, Alternate Universe - Escorts, Anxiety, Escort Anne Lister, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Leather Jackets, NYC Love Fest, New York City, Prostitution, Self-Esteem, The Plaza, catching feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:07:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23378839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rysler/pseuds/Rysler
Summary: Tib Norcliffe thinks Ann Walker needs a teacher in the ways of lesbianism, and knows just the high-class escort to recommend.
Relationships: Anne Lister (1791-1840)/Ann Walker (1803-1854)
Comments: 186
Kudos: 238





	1. Tib's Big Idea

**Author's Note:**

> A shiny thing to distract you while you wait for more resurrection of the body. 
> 
> Though it's in a different era, I'm definitely channeling some Dr. Wendy Carr into my Anne Lister. 
> 
> Title is from "One Day at a Time." https://rysler.tumblr.com/post/613869956203954176 (feel free to follow me on tumblr if you like looking at other people's content.)

1992, at a university suspiciously similar to Columbia

  
  


“I have a client for you,” Tib said, peering mischievously over her beer at Anne.

They sat in one of the faculty building’s ornate sitting rooms, on overstuffed chairs that looked and smelled like they’d been there since the sixties, when everyone smoked indoors.

“A student? We have tutors. I’m not a tutor.” Anne leaned back, pushing her hair behind her neck.

“No. A _client._ Like the old days.”

“Tib. You must be joking. I don’t do that anymore.”

“I think you should make an exception.” Tib rubbed her fingers together. “For money.”

“I don’t need money.”

“ _Lots_ of money. And, if you play your cards right, a way into high society. I know you want that.”

Anne put down her wine glass. “Tib. What has gotten into you? I’m not a… prostitute… any more.”

“Was it ever really that, when you were showing rich, sheltered women a good time?”

Anne rolled her eyes. 

“This is a rich, sheltered woman. She radiates sexual need, Anne. She needs a teacher.”

“I take it she’s in one of your classes. So teach her.”

“Yes, she’s taking my flower arranging class. But I’m too much for her. You know me. I’m a bear. She needs a lioness.”

Anne did know Tib. Tib taught all the leisure arts, from decorating cakes to archery and skeet shooting. Archery even counted as a physical fitness elective. Flower arranging seemed more aimed toward the MRS degree.

“Let me put it plainly. I am a biology teacher. I am not fucking some barely legal college student for money.”

Tib took a swig of beer and looked satisfied. “She’s 29.”

“29?” Anne sat up straighter.

“Never had a sexual experience in her sweet, lesbian heart.”

“Damn.” Anne picked up her wine again. “So it’s like charity work.”

“Yes. Donate the fees to the ASPCA.”

“I am not calling you my pimp.”

“Just gals helping pals. Do you miss those days?” 

“The 70s? God no. Everyone wears deodorant now.”

Tib scoffed.

“Well, most people. You never outgrew it, did you?” Anne asked.

“I was born for it.”

***

Ann Walker squished a rose between her fingers as she tried to jam it into styrofoam. “Oh, drat.”

Ms. Norcliffe came over. “That’s all right, Ann. If it was easy to do, there wouldn’t be a class.”

“I suppose that’s right.”

“Say, Ann. Do you ever go out? On the town? Say, to the Rainbow Room?”

Ann’s cheeks tinted. “No.” She looked down. “I mean, sometimes with my aunt. Or my cousins. Or my great aunt. It’s a bit…”

“Stuffy?”

Ann nodded. 

“So you don’t go out much?”

“No. I always...wanted to. I just wouldn’t know what to do. With anyone.” Ann tried desperately to mind her pronouns. 

“I have a friend. Anne Lister? Do you know her?”

“Anne Lister? The biologist?”

“Yes.” 

“I went to one of her lectures. On viruses. It was extraordinary. Are they alive. If not, what are they.” Ann got a dreamy look.

“She would like to take you to dinner.”

“Me?”

“Yes. The thing is…”

“What’s the thing?” Ann tried not to bounce on her feet.

“You would have to pay her.”

“Pay her?”

“For all her worldliness. Helping you blossom as an adult. Learn to navigate the world.”

Ann pursed her lips. “Like an escort?”

Ms. Norcliffe brightened. “Exactly.”

Ann took a deep breath. “I would love to.”

***

They met at the gates of Columbia University, near the taxi stand. Ann clutched her purse, hoping that the white dress she’d chosen would be all right.

Anne wore a black pantsuit, like she should be on the cover of Forbes. Her hair was pulled back with a headband. 

“Ms. Walker.” Anne offered her hand.

Ann shook it, as she’d been taught. “Ms. Lister.” Anne’s hand was cool in hers. Ann wanted to keep touching her. Latent feelings rose up in her. Was Anne Lister a… lesbian? Ann took in her mannish suit, her piercing eyes, her friendly smile. There were rumors at the university. But surely a lesbian wouldn’t be standing here to have dinner with her, and Ann was going to pay her for…

...for experience.

Ann’s mouth went dry.

“Are you all right, Ms. Walker?”

Ann licked the inside of her mouth, blushing. “Ann. Please call me Ann.”

Anne leaned closer to her, conspiratorially. “Only if you call me Anne.”

“Of course. Anne.”

“Shall we get a cab?” Anne turned and offered her elbow.

Surely she couldn’t…

Anne jerked her head. “Come on.”

Ann took her arm. She stood close enough to feel Anne’s heat. It sent a flush through her, and a tingle in a place that rarely tingled. 

“Where are we going?” Ann asked.

They got a cab at the stand. Anne helped her in, and then walked around and got into the other car. 

“We’re going to Tribeca Grill,” Anne said.

“That’s where celebrities go. How did you get in?”

“I have connections.” Anne said, tossing her head and giving Ann a charming smile. And then laughing at herself.

“I am impressed already, Anne.”

“Am I supposed to be impressing you?”

“Ms. Norcliffe said you would show me the world.”

Anne chuckled. “I will do my best.”

***

Ann gave Anne the check in the taxi, wanting to get that part over with. Anne tucked into her breast pocket with a secretive smile. 

They were ushered right to a table at the restaurant. The room was big and open and Ann felt as if everyone were looking at her. But no, they were probably looking at Anne Lister. She looked as if she belonged in high society. 

Ann felt like a farce. If they only knew her wealth and status… they would know she didn’t deserve it.

“What do you know about wine?” Anne asked, when the waiter handed her a large, leather-bound book.

“Um.” Ann was flustered. “I like pinot noir. And not, um, cabernet sauvignon. It always tastes like grass, or mulch.”

“Mm, yes. That’s a flaw in the process. Pinot it is. Region?”

“Burgundy?”

“It’s not a test, Ms. Walker.” Anne studied her. “You took a class, didn’t you?”

Ann looked down. “Yes. I took a class.”

Anne reached across the table for her hand. “So you know from class. And now you’ll know from experience.”

Ann, embarrassed, offered a tentative smile.

Anne ordered the wine, and then as the waiter left, gazed at Ann.

Ann could sense that Anne radiated friendliness. She had to be brave. “So, do you do this often?”

Anne chuckled. “No. I have never had an ingenue. Before I became a teacher, I had clients, but they were more often peers. Or even, in those days, older women. I suppose then I was the ingenue.”

“You speak with such confidence.”

“Yes. And I’ll teach you to do the same. Here’s the first lesson.” Anne leaned in, her fingers still brushing Ann’s.

Ann also leaned in, and wondered if she would feel Anne’s breath on her cheek.

“The first lesson is, no one cares about you. No one cares if you’re nervous, or if you’ve got a mole, or if you know shit about wine. People only care about themselves.”

“Tell that to my parents,” Ann said.

They both straightened in their seats. Anne said, “Your parents probably only care about how you make them look.”

“Made,” Ann said. But before Anne could voice the familiar apology, Ann rushed ahead. “But you’re right. It was always more about them.”

“See. So next time, we’ll move onto lesson two. But for now, let’s just practice not caring.”

Ann grinned. She leaned in again. “It’s hard to do that when Sean Penn is three tables away.”

“Mm. I didn’t notice.”

Ann’s eyes widened. Then she took in Anne’s expression. “You’re lying.”

Anne laughed. “Yes. How clever you are, Ann.”

Ann felt flush all over at Anne’s words. If only she could pick the correct food, she thought, as she opened her menu.

“No one cares what you eat,” Anne said. “Get whatever you want. It’s your money.”

Something inside Ann loosened. She decided to pick the thing that delighted her the most. After all, her parents couldn’t judge her from beyond the grave.

***

They took a leisurely, long walk down to the Battery after dinner. Ann had eaten the squash, which left her feeling light, and the wine had brightened her evening considerably.

She didn’t understand how Anne, who’d had the majority of the wine and a ribeye, wasn’t asleep on her feet.

The walk was silent, and at a friendly distance. Ann took in the city around her, for once not having to worry about keeping up with her friends, or getting mugged, or getting lost. She felt perfectly safe with Anne Lister.

At the park they gazed across to New Jersey’s skyline, and Ann ventured to break the silence. “It’s beautiful here.”

“It’s one of my favorite places. I wanted you to see it. To know this city is yours, Ann. All yours.”

Ann took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Anne stepped closer, and put her arm around Ann’s shoulders. “It’s been a lovely night.”

“Yes.” Ann dared not lean in, though she could smell Anne’s cologne, and feel her warmth through their clothes. 

“Shall we do it again?” Anne asked.

“Whenever you’re free,” Ann breathed. Then, she said, “After my midterms next week. I still haven’t gotten the lilies figured out.”

Anne chuckled. “I’m testing my students, too. After that, then.”

“I can’t wait,” Ann said.

Anne smiled at her, not saying anything, and then let her go. They walked to a taxi stand, Ann’s heads filled with one thought. _Again, again, again._


	2. Rene Pujol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another dinner date.

Ms. Norcliffe circled Ann’s display. The centerpiece for a cheery summer wedding, it was alive with color, bold oranges and deep purples that dared bridesmaid gowns to outdo them. In the middle was a single, delicate snapdragon with little white bells.

“How long did this take, Ann?” 

Ann flushed. “Hours. It just wasn’t right and wasn’t right.”

“Mm. Well, one day you’ll be able to harness the same energy in a matter of minutes. This bouquet is alive. Vibrant. There’s something to it that I haven’t seen in your other work, Ann.”

“I was inspired, I guess. I could picture the prompt very well in my head.”

“Yes. Did you enjoy your time with Ms. Lister?”

Ann looked away, touching a star lily’s petal. “Very much.”

“Splendid. Well, when you see her again, you can tell her you made an A.”

“Thank you, Ms. Norcliffe.” Ann beamed head to toe. 

“I’m sure she’ll get an A as well…”

***

Ann met Anne at Rene Pujol. She had to wait for Anne, and paced nervously near the door, fake-smiling at couples that walked past her. She’d bought a new dress, white, and only straps for the shoulders. 

No one paid her any mind. _Remember rule one_. She decided to watch the opposite side of the street. No one noticed her gaze. It was a busy pre-theater Saturday night in Midtown.

Friday nights were for university keggers and faculty soirees alike. Being too old for students and not faculty, Anne had stayed in to watch television. It hadn’t been exciting. She’d spent the time fantasizing about tonight. 

Anne appeared as she rounded the corner from 8th street. She wore black slacks and a tuxedo shirt that made Ann’s mouth dry. Ann beamed and waved, and then wondered how to act for the next few minutes as Anne walked toward her. She decided not to care what she looked like and smiled openly. 

Anne took her hand and kissed her cheek. “How are you?”

“Fabulous.” Ann shined. Then, as an afterthought. “And you?”

“Lovely. Shall we?”

They went in together. Again, they were quickly seated. 

“We never have to wait at the bar,” Ann commented.

“I’m not used to waiting,” Anne said, settling into her chair. She handed the wine list over to Ann. “You pick.”

The wine list was much smaller than the book that Tribeca had. Ann studied it briefly and chose a pinot, from California, this time. “It will be bigger and bolder,” she said.

“You’ve been studying again,” Anne said, with a wink. 

“I decided, I like wine.”

“Good. Have you done prix fixe before?” Anne asked.

Ann fiddled with her fingers. “Not… by myself. With parents, perhaps. My sister doesn’t come to places like this. Not with four kids.”

“Four? Is she your age?”

“Just a bit older. I know. We aren’t Catholic.” Ann laughed awkwardly. 

“Are you religious?”

“I don’t really know. You?”

“Let’s discuss it after ordering.”

Anne explained the choices, and then Ann made them, ordering on both their behalf, at Anne’s urging. 

“I feel like the man,” Ann said. 

“Ann, we’re not in a Katherine Hepburn movie. It’s the 90s.”

“If we were in a Katherine Hepburn movie, you would definitely be her.” Ann said.

Anne brushed back her loose hair. “Probably yes. What does that make you?”

“Audrey Hepburn?” Ann forced a chuckle again. “She’s probably way more interesting.”

“Is she, though?” Anne leaned forward. “Give me my check, and I’ll impart rule two.”

Ann opened her purse, took it out, and handed it across the table. She shivered as Anne’s fingers grazed hers.

Anne tucked it away. “Okay, rule two is, to get people to like you, make them talk about themselves.”

“How?”

“There are two ways. The first is when they ask them something about you, ask it back, and you’ll reveal what they really wanted to say. Do you like pinot noir?”

“Yes, it’s so smooth, but it’s more than that, it’s got this very raspberry quality to it that makes it seem like it was just plucked and—oh, are you doing it to me?”

Anne grinned. “Yes. Now do it to me?”

“How? We haven’t talked about anything.”

The wine came, and was poured, and Anne waited throughout, taking a long sip of hers.

Ann blushed as something clicked. “Are you religious?”

“Anglican. I like a good Christian religion that’s older than this country. All that Awakening, that’s not for me. Too wild. Give me droning hymns any day. I find it all comforting. Eternal.”

“That’s so interesting,” Ann said. “What’s your favorite old hymn?”

Anne lifted her glass toward Ann. “There. You’ve got it.”

Ann clinked her glass, feeling rather proud. “What’s the second technique?”

“It’s what you just did. Find some detail and dive deeper. This technique works especially well on children. If you want to be the pied piper or anything.”

Ann laughed, this time free and easy. “I must try that on Elizabeth’s children.”

“Your sister, right? Now how did she end up with four again?”

They continued on like this, fishing for and catching conversation, back and forth. They bantered through goat cheese and duck and Ann’s quail and Anne’s steak. Ann forgot to be self-conscious, she forgot even that she wanted Anne to touch her, she forgot to wonder about how that made her feel, deep inside. But she didn’t forget that Anne liked steak.

“Do you ever eat anything else?” Ann asked.

“I do. I love Chinese. But there’s nothing like a $30 steak I’m not paying for.” Anne grinned.

“Take me to Chinese next time,” Ann said. 

“Next time.” Anne smiled. “Shall we take a walk? It’s almost time for the shows to start.”

***

On the street, Anne offered her arm and Ann took it without thinking, feeling safe against Anne. And welcome. They walked past theaters with bright bulbs around famous names.

They reached _Cats_. 

“Have you seen it?” Anne asked.

“A Broadway show? Who would go with me?” Ann asked, and then felt ridiculous for whining. She wondered if she should apologize.

“Mm,” Anne said.

Ann tried to change the subject. “The Winter Garden. I think that’s such a romantic name for a theater. Don’t you?”

“Yes. Better than the Martin Beck. Does that provoke visions of another world?”

“Maybe if I knew more about it.” Ann wrinkled her nose. 

“Shall we get a cab?”

“Sure.” Ann’s heart sank at the thought of their night ending. “I’ve had a really good time.”

“It’s good to see you come out of your shell, Ann. You’re interesting, and smart, and…”

“And?” Ann raised her eyebrows, and gave Anne a nudge.

“I was going to say ‘very sweet.’” Anne said. She cleared her throat and looked at the show poster.

“Oh. Thank you.” Ann squeezed her waist.

Anne turned back to her, a smile creasing her lips. She cupped Ann’s face in one cool hand. “I’m glad Tib introduced us.”

“Me too.” Ann swallowed. _What happened next?_

Ann dropped her hand. “We’d better head home. Chinese next week?”

_A whole week?_

“I can’t wait,” Ann said.

“We have a long way to go, Ann. I have a great responsibility as your teacher.”

The tingle that had made Ann shiver when Anne touched her cheek now rushed through her again, from head to toe and then to groin. She licked her lips, which did not go unnoticed by Anne, which did not go unnoticed by her. Her feelings were in tumult. Was she attracted to a woman? Is that what she had ignored last week? And did Anne… know it?

“I’m glad,” Ann said. 

Anne took her hand, and they walked to the main avenue to get a cab. Suddenly, Ann couldn’t get home fast enough. She had to think.


	3. Third Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann wields power naively.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just chock full of the passive voice, but Anne Lister's birthday is a deadline I shant miss.

The week passed in a tumult of self-examination and answering machine messages. Ann had checked _Annie on her Mind_ , mostly due to the name, and _The Color Purple_. She’d braved the so-called “lesbian dorm” and snagged some pulp novels. She’d shied away when one of the girls there tried to flirt with her. But later, reflecting, she’d found the girl attractive, and could have… done some things. What things?

Being alone in New York without friends was suddenly daunting. She called Catherine, but chickened out on the reason, and ended up listening to Catherine ramble on about fashion. Catherine had recently been to Paris and Ann was burningly jealous.

Phone tag resulted in Ann meeting Anne outside the university gates. She’d been told to wear prep school chic, so she had on a polo and khakis, and had transferred her purse contents into a borrowed denim purse. Catherine would be proud.

Anne had similarly gone casual, in a cashmere sweater and whitewashed jeans that were neither ripped nor rolled up. She looked like a vision, and Ann, now that something had been unleashed inside her, recognized the desire that welled up in her at seeing Anne.

“Taxi?” Anne asked, after she’d kissed Ann on the cheek.

“Where are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise. But it’s a long ride.”

Ann, chaotic, followed Anne into a cab and gave her a check. The money was trifling compared to the pressure of Anne’s shoulder against hers, the pat on the knee Anne gave her when the cab took a corner too hard.

They ended up in Chinatown, equally tumultuous, foreign, and Ann stayed in Anne’s shadow for security as well as longing.

“This is the perfect place for lunch,” Anne said. “You’ll love it.”

“I’ve never been here before.” Ann admitted.

Anne smiled, pressing her lips together, but said nothing.

They were seated at a big table with other people, mostly Asian but not completely. They were poured tea, and a teapot was left with them.

“It’s dim sum. You point to something, and they give it to you.”

“But how do I know what anything is?” Ann asked.

“That’s the fun.” Anne chuckled. “I’ll tell you.”

“I’ve had Chinese food before. You know… college food. Thai food. Vietnamese once, when I—“ Ann stopped cold. She’d eaten Vietnamese with a girl in her Latin class who’d turned out to be both boring and self-absorbed, but had told Ann how pretty she was. 

“When I went on a very bad date,” Ann said.

“Well, let’s hope that doesn’t happen here.”

“It wouldn’t. You’re—“ Striking. Worldly. Fascinating. Alluring. “—You.”

Anne grinned. “I am.”

They ate spring rolls and pork buns and shrimp dumplings, and pouring her second cup of tea, Ann blurted out her question.

“Is Mrs. Norcliffe a lesbian?”

Anne hesitated, a dumpling she was able to eat hanging from her chopsticks. She put it down. “Well, normally I wouldn’t be one to out someone, but as she introduced us, I will say, yes she is.”

“Are—“ Ann stopped. Did she want to know this? It would change something, somehow, in her little world. Her walls were much more fragile than they had seemed for years, and now this striking, worldly, fascinating woman was meeting her gaze with a stern, kind intensity.

“I only love the fairer sex,” Anne said. “That is what God made me.”

 _God?_ But then Ann remembered Anne was religious, Anne was old-fashioned. 

“Full disclosure,” Anne said casually, as if cities weren’t crumbling to dust, “I did have a relationship with Tib. When we were in our very early 30s. We were not well-suited.”

“Ah.” Ann licked the inside of her mouth to get it to work. “You’re friends, now.”

“Dear friends. Perhaps partners in crime.” Anne smirked, and snatched up her dumpling, and ate it.

Ann checked over herself. Ten fingers, ten toes. Heart fine. Ears, still ringing a bit. “I guess that’s why I’m paying you. To expand my horizons a bit.”

Anne peeked at her, sideways. “Are you?”

Ann drank her tea in large swallows, and considered. 

***

Out on the street in the early afternoon, Anne took Ann’s shoulders and looked down into her face.

Ann asked, “I’m not here to go on a culinary tour of New York, am I?”

“No,” Anne said. She dipped her chin, bringing her mouth toward Ann’s.

“Wait.” Ann put her hand up to Anne’s cheek, but didn’t step away from her embrace. “If this is to be my first kiss… ever… I want to do it in Times Square.”

“Ann, it’s dangerous—“

“That’s what I want.”

“Mm.” Anne said. “Your first kiss?”

“With someone I… like,” Ann said. She desperately needed Anne to take the lead, but she was equally desperate to be kissed. And this was about what she wanted, right? 

Anne smiled, and let go of her. “Let’s find a cab.”

***

Times Square was bustling. Tourists took pictures with their 8mms and generally got in the way. Ann tried to pick the perfect spot. Was it right there at the corner, or was it better in front of a giant glowing sign? Being near the theater district made her think of the Winter Garden. That would have been better, maybe. But she was here now, and Anne Lister would do whatever Ann told her to do. 

“I’m proud of you,” Anne said, as Ann took her hand and drew her to a halt.

“Me?”

“You voiced something you wanted. Do you do that often?”

Ann parted her lips. “Never.”

“Then this is working,” Anne said.

“Just call me Miss Doolittle,” Ann said.

Anne grinned, that casual expression that made her seem as big as the world itself. She stepped closer, into Ann’s personal space.

Ann kept her gaze on Anne’s lips. She wondered what to say. She wondered what to do. But she didn’t do anything, and Anne’s lips eventually found hers, and pressed. 

Ann grabbed onto Anne’s arms, leaning both into the kiss and onto Anne, because she was swooning from the way her body turned to liquid. Anne’s mouth pressed hers, and then parted. 

Anne stepped back, far enough to see Ann’s face. 

“Is it always like that?” Ann asked. She wanted to touch her tingling lips, but daren’t.

“It should be,” Anne said. “You should always demand that it be so.”

“Do it again? Kiss me,” Ann said.

Anne glanced around. “Not in Times Square. This is risky, Ann. Shall we go back to your apartment?”

“No, no.” Ann was delirious, but her walls surrounded her, safe and strangling. “Maybe a cab?”

“Yes.” 

Anne hailed a cab, seemingly just by directing her piercing gaze in one’s direction.

They climbed into the back seat. Ann sat against Anne, nearly in the middle, against all decorum.

Anne kissed her again, cupping her cheek, keeping close to her.

Ann succumbed to Anne’s firm lips. Cab drivers had seen everything, she had no fear in this tiny space, except perhaps for her life, as he went twice the speed limit.

She clung to Anne, letting herself be ravished by Anne’s searching mouth. The kisses deepened. Ann felt her heart and her groin fall out of her body, floating somewhere, disembodied, and in revenge she bit into Anne’s lower lip, and groaned.

Anne pulled back and took a deep breath. “Are you going to change your mind? About your apartment?”

Ann smiled. “No.”

The cab pulled up by the main gates.

“See you on Saturday, then?” Anne asked.

“Yes,” Ann said. 

Anne got out of the cab, and Ann directed it to take her to the Upper East Side. 

She had called herself Eliza Doolittle, and all the songs suddenly made sense to her. She hummed to herself. It was if she had lived in a black and white world and could suddenly see color.

“I could have spread my wings  
And done a thousand things  
I've never done before…”


	4. This would be easier with cell phones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann Walker and leather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter! Happy Killing Eve Day! Happy all the things!

The box arrived by courier to Ann’s Upper East Side apartment. She opened the bag, waded through the tissue paper, and found an elegant, sleek leather jacket. Just her fit, right past the hips. Perfect in the shoulders. It had a zipper up the middle, and a zipper on the right side.

The card in the box read, “Thought of you when I saw it; Thinking about you wearing it. ~ A.L.”

Ann admired herself in the mirror. Should she call Anne and thank her? That made her nervous. She decided she would wear it first. She, Ann Walker, biker girl.

_My folks were always putting him down_   
_They said he came from the wrong side of town_   
_They told me he was bad but I knew he was sad…_

She hummed to herself. She longed for an opportunity to show it off.

Had she ever longed for such a thing?

As a child, she hated being a dress-up doll for her parents, and after Thomas Ainsworth, she hated even more the looks she got from men. 

But Anne Lister was doing something to her. Something beyond sexual. 

Her phone rang. She leapt at it, and answered at the second ring.

“Hi, Ann, it’s Harriet.”

“Harriet, how are you?” Ann asked.

“Just lovely. You?”

“Same.”

“Great, look, the Priestlys are in town, and we’d all love to see you. I know it’s not your favorite thing, but we’re the only family they have in New York, and it’s so rare they come down from the country, and—“

“I’ll come.”

“What?”

“I’ll be there. When?” Ann asked.

“3 o’clock tomorrow? The Plaza for tea?”

“I’ll be there,” Ann said.

“Great! See you then, cous.” Harriet hung up.

“I’ll be there with bells on,” Ann murmured. Inexplicably, the passing thought of revealing to Eliza Priestly that she was a lesbian filled her with delight.

She looked at herself in the mirror.

Then she took off all her clothes, let down her hair, and put the jacket back on. 

She gave her mirror-self a big grin.

***

Ann walked to the Plaza, a leisurely stroll. She took Park Ave, and noticed for the first time the splendor around her. She knew Daniel was nearby—people would not shut up about it—and for the first time she wondered if she could go there and actually have fun. 

Be seen.

She pulled her leather jacket around herself in a little hug. Eliza Priestly might be appalled at such an outfit in the Plaza at _tea_ , but Ann knew about fashion and knew she would be welcome.

She created a stir when she walked in, five minutes late. The Priestlys and Harriet had just been seated. They got up again. Eliza’s eyes narrowed. Harriet’s widened. 

“Ann!” Harriet came and hugged her. “You look like Michelle Pfeiffer!”

Ann blushed appropriately, and hugged Harriet back with less meekness than usual.

Then she kissed Eliza and William on the cheeks.

“How nice that you could come,” Eliza said, as they all sat down. “You look so grown up.”

Harriet squeezed Ann’s wrist. “We’re doing the champagne option.”

“Splendid,” Ann said, with a smile, though inwardly kicking herself at the Hamptons that slipped out of her. 

“What have you been doing?” Eliza asked.

“Oh, taking a few courses at Columbia and—“

Eliza was off talking about herself. It took Ann a few mouthfuls of champagne—good champagne—to adjust. Then she remembered Anne Lister’s lessons. Be interested in Eliza’s prattle. Be aware, and open, and cognizant.

When Eliza took a breath, Ann jumped in with a question about her school.

Eliza beamed and chatted.

It was rather boring, perhaps even banal, but it was not scary. Ann didn’t feel like she had to show off. She wasn’t being seen by the Priestlys. She was the audience, they were the stars. 

She relaxed, and made mental notes about the wine to describe it later to Anne _._ The thought had her flushed, and apparently smiling.

Harriet leaned over. “I’ve never seen you so happy. What gives?”

Eliza stopped talking and peered curiously at Ann.

William stuffed a tiny sandwich into his mouth.

“I’ve met a very interesting person, is all.”

“He’s probably after your money,” Eliza said.

Ann froze. Then giggled. Anne was after her money, Ann was paying her. Paying her for sex. How rich, she thought to herself, and let out a full-belly laugh. 

Eliza was nonplussed.

Harriet beamed.

“It’s a she,” Ann said, taking big breaths. “I think I’ll go with her to Daniel next week.”

Eliza scoffed. “You kids, always wanting something new and flashy. Give me Le Cirque any day.”

_Daniel was the chef at Le Cirque_ , Ann wanted to say, but bit her tongue. Arguing with Eliza Priestly was not one of her favorite sports. 

Harriet nudged Ann. “Can I come?”

“No,” Ann breathed, grinning. “But you can help me pick out a dress.”

“Splendid.”

Ann rubbed the sleeve of her jacket, felt warm, happy she was having a good time, and wondering how early she could leave.

***

Ann purred into the phone, before saying hello, before losing her nerve. “I want you to come over this Saturday. To my apartment.”

“Okay,” Anne said. “How are you?”

“The word of the day is ‘splendid.’ Yourself?”

“Quite so.”

“I know you know where my apartment is,” Ann said. “Thank you for the gift.”

“How’s the fit?”

“Sple—um, superb. I wore it to tea with my elderly cousins. They were duly impressed.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I would like to see you in it.”

The words sent a hot current through Ann’s gut. “Saturday,” she said.

“Will you cook?” Anne asked.

“Uh. Yes. Sure.”

“And choose the wine.”

_Why are you giving me orders if I’m paying you?_ Ann scowled, but asked, “Do you have any food allergies?”

“Nope.”

“Vegetarian?”

“Nope.”

“Hate carrots?”

“Love carrots.”

“White or red?”

“White.” Anne purred again. 

Ann leaned on the couch for support. She swallowed thickly. “See you at 6,” she said. “If you want to keep me company while I cook.”

“Yes.”

“Great. Good. See you then.”

“Goodnight, Ann,” Anne said.

“Goodnight.” The word came through high-pitched.

Ann hung up the phone and got out her notebook. She only had three days to plan the perfect pre-sex meal.

She wrote pasta and then crossed it out. Too first-date. Then she wrote it again. Whole wheat? 

She put her head down on the couch arm. For the first time since moments after meeting Anne Lister, she didn’t know what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Points if you can name the famous AU Xenafic that featured "Leader of the Pack."
> 
> Also, I surreptitiously moved Ann from the West to the East Side, if anyone's mildly confused by this chapter and isn't sure why.
> 
> Also also, Ruth Reichl's review of Daniel in the 1990s is a formative New York moment: https://www.nytimes.com/1994/11/11/arts/restaurants-797014.html


	5. The Joy of Cooking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW, yadda yadda.

Anne bit into a brussel sprout.

Ann curled her lower lip, pressing her teeth against it to stop it from quivering.

Anne chewed, swallowed. Looked at Ann in wonder. “This was cooked perfectly. Not mushy and earthy, not raw. Delectable.”

“It’s the butter,” Ann said modestly.

“Butter helps everything.” Anne took a sip of wine, and then tried the couscous. “What’s in this?”

“Mint, cloves. Lemon. More butter.” Ann offered a hesitant smile.

“Ann, you’ve outdone yourself. How are you such a good cook?”

“I practiced. Every day.” Ann pointed to _The Joy of Cooking_ on her kitchen island.

Anne grinned. “A girl who does her homework.”

Ann’s toes curled at that. She’d met Anne at the door, fully dressed and wearing the leather jacket. She’d shown Anne around her park-facing apartment, embarrassed at its small size and its extravagance simultaneously. Then Anne had told her stories about studying biology in London while she finished cooking. Chicken thighs from the oven, couscous and brussel sprouts on the stove.

She didn’t tell Anne, but she’d tried different wines, too. Oaked chardonnay and unoaked white burgundy, which she learned were the same grape. Sauvignon blanc from three different continents. She’d settled on sauvignon blanc from California, milder than its counterparts, but still acidic enough to cut the couscous.

That had been more fun than _The Joy of Cooking._

Anne ate half her meal. Ann hardly ate any. She allowed herself one glass of wine, hoping to calm her nerves without going into a stupor.

Anne put down the fork. “Enough of this. Let’s go to the bedroom.”

Ann swallowed.

“Put on the jacket,” Anne said.

Ann stood. “Okay. Wait here.”

She took the jacket off the couch and went into her bedroom. She closed the door. 

She took off her clothes. What had felt powerful and alluring in her mirror, when she was alone, felt ridiculous now. She zipped up the jacket. She put on black panties. She nearly started to cry.

_You’re paying her not to laugh at you._

“What would Mrs. Norcliffe say,” she asked the mirror. 

She had a stunning, older, magnificent woman out in her kitchen and she was going to get in her pants.

Ann opened the door.

Anne had been clearing the dishes from the table. When she saw Ann, her eyes widened. She came over. She stood in front of Ann. 

Ann felt paralyzed.

“Are you all right?” Anne asked.

Ann nodded.

Anne put her hands on Ann’s shoulders. She leaned in, gently kissing Ann on the cheek. Then she moved to the other cheek. “You’re beautiful.”

Ann had heard the words before, but had never felt them. Her lips curved into a smile.

“May I?” Anne asked.

“Yes,” Ann said, glad of the strength in her voice.

Anne unzipped the jacket. She pushed it open, revealing the curves of Ann’s breasts, the black lace panties. Anne licked her lips. She kissed Ann, chastely, on the mouth. 

Ann exhaled the breath she’d been holding.

Anne then took her hand, and led her into the bedroom. Anne sat on the bed. Ann stood before her.

“Make love to me,” Anne said.

“What?”

“Touch me, pleasure me. Do anything you want to me.”

“But aren’t you supposed to—we.”

“Ann.” Anne took her hands, met her gaze. “I’m not going to ravish you while you lie there and think of England. While you get your jollies off. I’m your teacher, not your mistress.”

The word ‘mistress’ sent electricity through Ann. Her mouth was dry. She opened and closed it. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Ann. Yes you do.” Anne lowered her voice. “You know what you want to do to me.”

Ann gripped Anne’s hands. She studied Anne the way she’d studied the cookbook. She willed translation and understanding to come. She wondered where to start. It had taken her days to learn the timing of food, to learn not just sauces but temperatures and brightness and tenderness.

Ann let go of Anne’s hands and cupped her face. 

Anne smiled up at her.

Ann kissed her. She remembered kissing Anne. Knew already the taste of her lips, now with extra cloves. Knew that if she applied pressure in a certain spot, Anne’s mouth would part, and Ann could find her tongue, and they would moan together. 

Her fingers found Anne’s hair, and Ann kissed her with warmth.

Anne did not touch her.

Ann broke the kiss, straightening up, regarding Anne. “There’s, uh, a technical problem.”

Anne arched a brow, but didn’t say anything.

“You’re dressed.”

Anne had discarded her jacket, but she was in a scalloped blouse and black trousers, with black leather pumps. 

“I am,” Anne said.

The blouse was loose around Anne’s waist. Ann bunched her hands in the hem and pulled it up, relieved when Anne obliged by stretching her arms so Ann could pull it off, leaving Anne in a tan bra. 

That had only required a novice’s skill, Ann supposed, but she had done it. She draped the blouse over a chair, and then turned back to Anne.

“Could you stand up?” Ann asked.

“I’ll do anything you want,” Anne said as she stood up.

Ann’s groin pulsed with need at Anne’s words. Her skin flushed pink. Strangely, she didn’t care about her own near-nakedness. She wasn’t concerned with her own body at all, beyond the desire it communicated to her brain. A sense of urgency. More touching.

Ann kissed Anne’s shoulder, moving behind her. She unclasped the bra. Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment. She had not imagined enjoying this. Wanting this so badly.

Anne had been right to imply that Ann wanted to get it over with. The embarrassing, squicky parts. The bad memories and the bad porno magazines. The first time jitters.

This was so much better.

She kissed Anne’s shoulder blades. First one, then the other, where Anne might have had wings. Then she wrapped her arms around Anne’s waist. She held her close, sighing. Letting herself be near Anne. 

“Are you okay?” Anne asked.

“Magnificent,” Ann said. She pressed her forehead to Anne’s back.

Anne petted her fingers.

Ann straightened, and turned Anne around to face her. The moment of truth. Breasts, right at her chest. Ann put her hands above them, just the hint of slope at her palm.

“If I didn’t know I was a lesbian yet, I do now,” Ann said. 

She pressed Anne’s breasts with both hands. When she brushed the nipples, they responded, hardening and reaching for her. She caressed them, twisting them in her fingers, and Anne’s breath hitched, and her eyes lidded.

“You like this?” Ann asked.

Anne’s eyes opened, widened, meeting Ann’s. “I’m very attracted to you. I want to make love to you. Is that not obvious?”

Ann giggled. She slid the leather jacket off her shoulders, dropping it to the floor, and wrapped herself around Anne, so their breasts pressed together. 

“It’s like I know some big secret,” Ann said. 

“What’s that?”

“Women, together?”

“Since Sappho,” Anne said.

Ann turned her head, pressed a kiss to Anne’s collarbone. Touched a breast again, and then captured it with her whole hand, an enormous pear, warm and alive in her hand. 

“But something else,” Ann said. She giggled again, and it turned into a full-belly laugh. “I think this is… happiness?”

“So few people think they deserve to be happy,” Anne said.

 _Did she deserve it?_ Ann shook her head. She moved her hands to Anne’s trousers and unbuttoned and unzipped them. They sagged to Anne’s thighs. Ann knelt, to drag them and Anne’s underwear, as lacey as hers, but white, and shimmering with wetness, down to her ankles.

Anne delicately stepped out of them, and stood nude as Ann straightened. Athena. But not a statue; alive, warm, smelling of desire. 

Ann faltered. “Do I just… maul you?”

Anne laughed, and of her own accord stretched out on the bed, propped up by several pillows. She offered her hand to Ann, who took it, and knelt on the bed. 

Ann’s mouth watered. She said, “This is not what I was expecting.”

Anne said nothing. Just grinned. Her eyes seemed filled with delight.

Ann crouched over her, one knee between Anne’s thighs. She kissed Anne, only lightly, afraid to get consumed by Anne’s lips, afraid it would be all over if Anne’s tongue brushed hers.

Instead, she kissed Anne’s neck, and followed the bony path to her chest. Then the slope of her breast. So much better with lips than with fingers. She captured Anne’s nipple in her mouth. Hard, insistent, eager. 

Anne wanted her. Her, and no one else. Was here, in her apartment. Ann gulped the rush of power, and let her teeth graze Anne’s nipple, hearing a hiss of delight, and then sucking the whole tip of Anne’s breast into her mouth. Consuming.

“Ann,” Anne breathed.

Ann wanted to rouse other sounds from Anne, from other parts of her body. She gave Anne’s other breast the same treatment, somehow more intense than the first, more of Anne pushing back against her, arching into her lips, begging.

_Begging?_

Ann kissed Anne’s stomach, her hips, her ribs, until Anne laughed and said it tickled.

She was being drawn by Anne’s scent, not fully comprehending the need she was now addicted to until she pressed her lips to Anne’s pubic hair, dry and crinkly, but filled with scent. Anne’s thighs parted. 

“Can I?” Ann asked.

“Yes,” Anne answered, sprawled onto her back, open for Ann’s every touch.

 _Can she do what she was born to do_.

Ann’s knees slid off the bed. She held onto Anne’s thighs to anchor herself. How had it come to this, from a leather jacket and couscous and the perfect wine. She thought of Georgie O’Keefe, giggled again. Then she closed her eyes and parted her lips and found Anne.

First there was heat, warming her through, starting with her tongue, tracing fire, finding wet flesh better tasting than anything that had come before. Then texture. Then sounds. Anne’s fingers in her hair. Heavy breaths. Soft moans. Then the taste, something beyond reason, innately familiar, womanness. Her ownness. Anne. 

She licked, and Anne said, “Circles,” she circled, and did the alphabet, because she’d read that once in _Cosmo_ , and was Anne laughing?

Anne said, “Inside,” and Ann froze.

She pressed her forehead to Anne’s curly hairs, and breathed in, and out. “I can’t,” she said.

“Yes, you can. Start your finger where your tongue is, and slide downward.”

Ann licked roughly, just to hear Anne shudder, and then followed directions. She circled Anne’s clit with her forefinger, entranced by the quivering of hips against her shoulders, and then traced downward.

And sank.

And sank. Until her finger found something deeper, something _inside_ , and she followed it, Anne clenching around her. She pushed her finger in as far as it would go, and that was somehow not enough, she searched—

“Your mouth,” Anne said.

Ann covered Anne with her mouth, sucking, her tongue against Anne’s clit, all intensity and pressure, no alphabet now, and her finger pressed in and out, and Anne was not gasping above her but still laughing, and then—

“Oh, this is going to work,” Anne said. “Oh God—“

Anne came, shuddering around Ann’s finger, pressing against her teeth, clenching against her shoulders. Ann kept licking as the shudders went through them, until finally Anne’s voice—

“Stop.”

Ann stopped. She breathed heavily. She withdrew her finger, and heard Anne sigh.

“Come here,” Anne said.

Ann carefully gathered herself, crawling back onto the bed, and finally lay at Anne’s side, not quite meeting her eyes.

“How do you feel?” Anne asked.

Ann considered. “Perfectly normal.”

Anne rolled into her, pressing her whole length against Ann’s. “And if I touched you, you would come like a rocket.”

Ann had not considered herself, but the need was suddenly there, aching for Anne’s touch, for any touch, her whole body alive with sex and scent and desire.

Ann’s breath caught.

“Your first time,” Anne said, as her hand slid between Ann’s legs.

Ann had orgasmed before, so she thought, but Anne’s touch ignited something new in her, a pleasure previously untouched. A few strokes of strong, precise fingers and Ann came, quick and heaving, with Anne’s taste still on her lips. 

Anne kissed her, and kept stroking. The aftershocks were just as pleasurable, a bumpy ride through bliss, all wetness and hungry kisses. 

“That was nice,” Ann breathed, on her back, when she could breathe.

Anne propped herself up on her arm, and used her free hand to trace Ann’s stomach. “Rest. And then I’ll do everything to you that you did to me. So you can see how it feels.”

Ann swallowed. “Stay tonight?”

Anne moved her mouth to Ann’s ear. “Okay.”

“Is that...extra?”

Anne chuckled. “No.”

A shiver of pleasure went through Ann. “I don’t need to rest.”

Anne moved over her, kissing her deeply. Ann gripped Anne’s shoulders. Held on for dear life.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Food snobbery and kissing lessons.

They were at Daniel.

Ann ate an oyster. She’d never eaten an oyster before and she didn’t much care for it. But it wasn’t terrible. She ate another. 

Anne had settled for mushroom toast. 

They’d been talking about their week, about biology and the changing weather and the situation of pigeons in Manhattan.

Ann wanted to change the subject. “Anne,” she asked. “How did you get into this life? This… side business.”

Anne grinned, unoffended, and took a sip of wine. “It used to be my whole business. In the 70s, when people didn’t quite know what to do about the sexual revolution, or feminism, but they knew it wasn’t quite working out. Times were changing. I had a lot of company. Women were more independent, I guess. At least when I think of my mother. I was young and having a lot of fun.”

“And making a lot of money?”

Anne’s brow furrowed. “Enough. Enough to live on. But not enough for who I wanted to be. So…” she trailed off.

Ann waited. She didn’t eat another oyster. She practiced eye contact, trying to look interested. Offering a tiny smile.

“I met my sugar momma. Mariana. She basically paid for exclusivity. She found the idea of sharing me distasteful.” Anne paused. Took another sip of wine. “Speaking of distasteful, I fell in love with her. So I was willing to be her mistress. She paid my way through school, filed all the wild edges off me, refined me—And don’t get me wrong, I wanted to be refined. To be more. But the days together became weeks apart. Then months apart. When I got the chance to be a real academic, work at a real school, I took it.”

Ann felt confused. “And now?”

Anne ate a mushroom toast. “And now, Tib said you were special. And you are. Someone who can remind me there’s more to life than cells.”

Ann chuckled. “I can’t believe I would be the one teaching anyone that.”

“Ann, you’re interesting. I’m here to show you that.”

Ann looked at her hands. Then scooped some caviar into her mouth. 

“What do you think of Daniel?” Anne asked.

“It’s crowded,” Ann said.

“Let’s skip the entrees and go back to your place,” Anne said.

Ann pressed her thighs together. “Okay.”

***

Ann wondered, letting Anne into her bedroom, if she’d ever get to see Anne’s place. If it was boring and professorial, or somehow as exotic as Anne’s early past had been. Fur coats and no bras and lesbians. Or so Ann imagined.

Anne bid them change into robes, with nothing underneath, and then they sat together on the bed, like they were in an old movie about to smoke or say something daring.

Ann didn’t know if Anne wanted Ann to do what she’d done last time, take the initiative, be more confident. She bit her lip.

“Tonight is all about kissing,” Anne said.

“I’m a good kisser,” Ann protested, without knowing why. Her cheeks grew hot.

“Are you? How do you know?”

“Uh.” Ann considered. 

“How many people have you kissed, Ann?”

“Two? Three?”

Anne leaned closer. “Don’t do anything.”

“What?” Ann’s chest fluttered.

“Don’t move.” Anne’s lips pressed Ann’s.

Ann sat as still as a statue as warm lips caressed her own. Anne’s breath tickled the corner of her mouth. And then Anne leaned back.

Ann’s mouth was dry. “Uh.”

“Now kiss me like that.”

“Like that?” Ann hated the way her voice squeaked. 

Anne nodded. Kept her gaze on Ann’s.

Ann leaned in. She found it harder to balance than she intended, and put her hand on Anne’s shoulder. Anne didn’t protest. She tilted her head, so their noses wouldn’t bump, and pressed her lips to Anne’s. First too hard, comparing her experience, and then too soft. She could barely feel Anne against her. She felt if she made a puckering kiss she would be a fool.

“Ann,” Anne said, not moving.

“Mm?” Ann hovered close, willing to try again. The warmth of Anne’s shoulder under the satin robe kept Ann near. Kept Ann hoping.

“Kiss my cheek.”

Ann kissed Anne’s cheek more successfully. A brush of lips against skin. A press. Intent, but gentle. Ann drew back, and brave, kissed Anne’s other cheek.

Anne smiled. She was holding herself in a sitting position with one arm. The other reached for Ann’s free hand. “Good.”

Ann breathed.

“What do you want to do?” Anne asked.

“Everything. All at once.”

“Kiss me again on the mouth. Like you kissed my cheek.”

Ann twisted, and pressed a kiss to Anne’s lips, pretending they weren’t lips, they were just Anne, and sat back. Pleased.

“You’re beautiful, Ann,” Anne said.

Ann flushed. She dragged her thumb against Anne’s shoulder. 

“Kiss me again, and tug my lower lip between your lips.”

That took three tries; Clumsy and too biting and far too soft. She learned not to pull at Anne’s lip but instead to use her lips to push it slightly down, to make Anne’s mouth part, yielding to mechanics. Anne’s breath on her cheek sent feeling cascading through her. She wasn’t sure she could continue to practice like this.

“Good, Ann,” Anne said. Was Anne as breathless? “Now let me kiss you, properly.”

“Okay,” Ann said, barely getting the word out before Anne’s mouth descended onto hers, commanding, possessive. Ann’s lips parted by instinct. Anne’s tongue immediately bathed her upper lip, and then touched her tongue, just a brush, as gentle as her lips had been before.

Ann swallowed. “Anne.”

“That’s enough for now,” Anne said.

Ann nodded. She cleared her throat, and met Anne’s eyes.

Anne’s hand cupped her breast, through her robe. Evocative, erotic. They weren’t two schoolgirls practicing anymore. They were lovers. 

“I want you to touch me, Ann, the way that you kissed me. Make me come.”

Anne saying her name was intoxicating. Anne moved back onto the bed, lying down on her back, and opened her robe.

Ann studied her body, finding it still unbelievable that another woman would bare herself to Ann, would be in her bed. It was miraculous. She tossed off her own robe. She took her time getting into the proper position. Finally she decided to lie against Anne’s right side, her leg thrown over Anne’s, so that she could use her own right hand to touch Anne.

She started at Anne’s belly, balancing herself the way she had on Anne’s shoulder, and searched Anne’s face. Was this real?

“Please, Ann,” Anne said. 

Ann shifted, pressing her body against Anne’s. Her hand traveled between Anne’s legs. Thinking of the gentle kiss, she caressed Anne’s inner thigh, letting her fingertips brush but not penetrate damp folds.

“Ah, Ann,” Anne sighed. “You’re already learning the next lesson.”

“Hm?” Ann allowed herself a small smile as she touched Anne’s hip.

“Don’t touch another woman’s clit until she begs you too.”

Ann lost her breath, then, as the world spun around her. Then, she, instinctively rather than learnedly, moved back between Anne’s legs, and pushed one finger against her, far from her clit, but close to her entrance. 

Anne hissed, and then sighed. “Good, Anne.”

“May—Maybe,” Ann stuttered. “We have mutual goals. I don’t want this to end too fast. Not when you’re so...endlessly fascinating.”

“Good, Ann,” Anne said. “This is what people will remember. Not how fast they got off.”

Ann circled Anne’s entrance, and at the same time leaned closer to Anne’s face, nibbling her ear. Breathing into Anne’s neck.

“Ann,” Anne keened.

“Are you begging?”

“Please touch me.”

Ann used first one finger, and then three, to find Anne’s clit, to circle it and tempt it like a tongue, and then to stroke, with committed pressure. Anne’s wetness welcomed her, invited her, and Anne’s softly-vocalized words told her where to touch, and how, and soon to slide her fingers into Anne, and use the heel of her hand to press her clit. Then Anne’s hips began to move. 

“I want to do this all the time,” Ann said, as Anne’s body quivered against hers.

“Who wouldn’t?” Anne gave a choked laugh. Her eyes were closed. Her hips rocked.

Ann could only hold on, kissing Ann where she could reach.

“Ann. On top,” Anne commanded.

Ann, with some effort, knelt above Anne, pushing her hand into Anne. She braced herself on her knees and with her free arm. That left her able to kiss Anne’s nipple. To swirl her tongue against the taut flesh the way she ground her hand against Anne’s center.

“Yes, Ann, yes, Ann.” The words turned Ann on as much as Anne’s presence, and Ann sank onto Anne’s leg, holding it down with her weight, pressing her own need desperately against Anne. 

“Ann,” Anne said. Her back arched. She trembled underneath Ann, her movements jerking and then stilling. Her relaxation glacial, except for the ripples and shivers that came after. 

“Stay there,” Anne said, before Ann could decide what to do.

Anne opened her eyes, smiled at Ann above her, and gripped Anne’s thigh with her left hand. “What do we say?”

Ann inhaled. “Touch me, Anne.”

Anne found Anne’s aching core, her fingers deft and sure, and brought Ann to an urgent, needful orgasm that left her sinking onto Anne, holding on for dear life.

“I thought it wasn’t supposed to be fast,” Ann chided.

“The next one won’t be,” Anne said. “We have all night.”

Ann laughed and kissed Anne, not giving a damn about technique.

***

Ann picked at her quail. She was with the Priestlys again, this time for Sunday dinner. The quail was overcooked, and covered in a sauce that probably came from a jar. 

She thought about the spring rolls at Daniel and sighed.

Did the Priestleys know what they were eating? Did they care?

Harriet kept up chatter about who irritated her at work. Eliza offered commentary, always on Harriet’s side, even when Ann thought it was preposterous. 

No one asked Ann about her classes, or how she was doing, other than talked-over pleasantries. It was lonely.

She eagerly carried her plate to the kitchen when the others went into the parlor for cards. There were no servants about. No doubt monitoring them from some secret place, to do the dishes like silent night elves. 

Eliza found her there, putting her dish in the sink.

“Ann, I thought… I thought I might give you some advice.” Eliza looked uncertain, and someone small. Not herself. 

“Yes?” Ann gathered herself, putting on her pleasantest smile, the one she had learned as a child. Had Eliza heard about her sordid social life lately?

But Eliza hadn’t. “Now that you’re well—You’re well, aren’t you?” At Ann’s tentative nod, Eliza went on. “You must find some purpose. Some good to do in the world. Some project.”

“What do you mean?” Ann asked.

“You can’t just eat fancy food and try on clothes like Harriet all day. You can’t. That’s what I did and—It’s awful, Ann. I regret my choices. Don’t make the same ones.”

“Okay,” Ann said. 

“Find something you care about.”

“You have the school,” Ann said, confused.

“I just give money to the school. Show up at a few fundraisers. I don’t do anything. Wealth is destructive, Ann. Most people put it up their noses. You don’t seem like that kind of girl. But don’t just… drift about. At the very least, travel.”

“Leave New York?”

Eliza saw the fear in Ann’s eyes, and laughed at her. “Yes. For God’s sake, Ann. Find something to do.”

“I will. I will, I promise,” Ann said.

Eliza squeezed her arm. “Now come play bridge with us. And look as bored as you’d like. You’re among family.”

Ann released tension she didn’t even know she was holding as she followed Eliza into the parlor. She had no idea what to do with her life, but she knew how to be nice to people who wanted to be nice to her, in their own way. Family was enough for tonight. 


	7. Accountability

Ann anxiously dialed her accountant’s number. He’d left her a cryptic message on Monday afternoon. Now it was Tuesday.

“Albert?” She asked when he picked up. “This is—This is Ann Walker.”

“Ah, Miss Walker. How are you?”

“Well, and you?”

“Fine, fine. Look, I’m doing the monthlies for you, and there’s been some increased spending.”

Ann swallowed the cold lump in her throat. “Is there?”

“Five hundred every week. That’s a lot of money, Miss Walker. I have to ask, are you in trouble?”

“Trouble? N-No. I’m fine.”

“Because if it’s blackmail or extortion, some boyfriend, some situation, we can get you out of it.”

She almost laughed. “No, nothing like that.”

“I have to know, Miss Walker. Because this is unsustainable.”

Ann frowned, thinking about an endpoint to her foray. A conclusion. 

Albert went on. “Gambling?”

She did laugh. “No. Of course not.”

“Drugs? Cocaine is very expensive an—“

“No drugs.”

“I’m flummoxed, Miss Walker.”

“I’m paying… an escort.”

There was a pause.

Then Albert said, “I don’t think that’s wise, Miss Walker. AIDS is a serious disease, and fatal, and—“

“A woman,” she interrupted.

Another long pause. “They do that?”

“It’s somebody at the university,” she said, as if that explained everything.

He scoffed. “I see. Well, you still shouldn’t be spending this type of money. On top of what you’re spending at restaurants. Are you treating her to New York’s finest dining?”

“Yes. It’s been… It’s been a lot of fun, Albert.”

He sighed. “Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll courier over the paperwork for your accounts. You can see the investments, the outlays, the projections. Then you can make your own decisions.”

“Does anyone else have control over my finances?”

“Not anymore. When you went to court to end your guardianship a few years ago, that was that. Then you left in my hands. And I’m not intervening, now, I’m just… presenting you with your situation.”

“Thank you, Albert.” She still felt cold, unsettled. She didn’t want her precious thing taken away. She forced herself to swallow. “Will I see you at the Rawson’s Summer Fling?”

“You’re going?”

“I think so.”

“Well, I wasn’t planning to… Will you be bringing your friend?”

“I hope so.”

“That might settle things. See you there, Miss Walker. And call me back with any questions or decisions regarding your funds.”

“Okay. Thanks. Bye.” She hung up the phone, and sat, shaking, for nearly half an hour.

***

“It’s fascinating, the way it rises,” Ann said. She brushed her fingertip over Anne’s nipple. It hardened before her eyes. She could feel the change in texture.

They were naked, propped up on pillows in bed, in Ann’s apartment. Half-sprawled, sated, and watching _Dr. Quinn: Medicine Woman._ They’d already discussed what they would do to Jane Seymour, given half the chance.

Ann didn’t share her feeling that Anne Lister was as elegant and dignified as Jane herself. As attractive, as alluring. It seemed embarrassing.

She cupped Anne’s breast.

“Ah,” Anne said, shifting on the pillows. “Now’s where I tell you I don’t like that overly much.”

Ann withdrew her hand like she’d touched a hot iron. “What?”

“Having my breasts fondled. They’re a nuisance. They perform when ordered, but they are not… to be served on a platter.”

Ann was disappointed. She rubbed her fingers together, remembering the sensation. Then remembered her newly-developed manners. “Where do you like to be touched?”

Anne touched her own ear. “Here.” Then the hollow of her throat. “Here. Press a little so the breathing is more difficult. And here.” She cupped herself, almost cheekily.

Ann followed her movements. She traced Anne’s ear the way she had Anne’s nipple, and Anne responded with a hiss. When she got to the throat, she nervously pressed, then felt Anne’s swallow. She made a mental note. 

Then she slipped her fingers over Anne’s center, pushing Anne’s aside. Anne was wet, swollen, always ready for her. It was no longer a surprise, but it was still joyous to sink her finger between folds and watch Anne’s face change. Her eyelids lowered. Her lips tightened.

“And where, Miss Walker,” Anne asked, “Do you like to be touched?”

Ann’s fingers kept up their steady massage. “I definitely feel the opposite about the breasts. I love every sensation you bring to them. The squeezing, the teasing, the…” Her cheeks colored. “The worship.”

Anne leaned forward, scooting, breaking away from Ann’s touch. She stroked her tongue across Ann’s nipple, never breaking eye-contact with her.

“Yes,” Ann said breathily. 

Anne did it again.

Ann cleared her throat. “Before we get… too far… I was wondering if you would come to the Rawson’s ball? Their Summer Fling. You’d meet important people, and—“ Her voice trailed off.

“The Rawsons? I’ve heard of their party. I’ve never been. I would love to go as your friend.”

“My friend. Right.” Ann said. She took a moment to turn off the television. The lights were still on. Anne liked it that way and Ann accepted it. 

“It’s always that.” 

Ann nodded. “Just friends. Do you think people guess?”

“The right people know. The wrong ones never have a clue,” Anne said.

Ann grinned.

“And in return, there’s a lecture—well, more of an excuse for a party—at the science museum next Thursday night. Would you come with me? I get so tediously lonely at those things. The shallow talk doesn’t amuse me… the way you do.” Anne’s smile was gregarious.

“I’d love to,” Ann said.

They sank down into the bed together, their bodies moving closer. “You fascinate me,” Ann said, running her fingers through Anne’s hair as Anne descended for a kiss.

“And you fascinate me, Ann,” Anne said. “Where did you come from? Aphrodite’s shell?”

Ann chuckled, rolling onto her back as Anne slid over her. “You do tell me I taste like the ocean.”

Anne kissed her again. “Sea spray on a sunny day.”

Ann’s hips began to roll against Anne’s as she melted under Anne’s kisses. She thought briefly of Albert. _Money well spent_. And then didn’t think about anything else for a long while.

***

Catherine had picked out the dress for her at a vintage clothing store on the Upper East Side. Thousands of dollars for someone else’s trash. The dress was pale pink, short, with sequin fringe hanging down to her knees. Catherine had said something about _The Great Gatsby._

Ann only cared what Anne would think when she saw Ann wearing it.

She wondered if Anne would be wearing a suit. A tuxedo? Something with tails? But Anne had suggested the conservative approach. Just friends. Ann didn’t like the idea, but she also didn’t know the rules. If her parents had been wrong about everything… what was left?

Anne didn’t have an invitation, so Ann was meeting her a block away from the venue at 9:00 PM. No kissing.

“Well, obviously,” Ann had said.

Anne had lowered her eyes and smirked. “You have no idea how bad you’ll want to kiss someone you’ve been forbidden to.” 

That left Ann second-guessing the party. But she had to go. She had to be that person. Invisibility had been killing her with its accompanying loneliness and fear.

Someday, there would be someone besides Anne…

***

Ann stood on the corner, waiting for Anne. At 9:00, the sun had just set, and everything was still warm. She was saved from sweating only by the deodorant she had applied everywhere she could reach.

She wondered if Anne would come by taxi or subway. Hyper-aware, she was still startled when she heard her name.

“Ann.”

Ann turned around. Anne approached from the side block, wearing a demure but well-cut dark purple dress. She’d pinned up her hair, and wore dark eye makeup. Her nails were manicured and painted blood red.

She looked like a _woman_. Ann swallowed. She thought of the way Anne didn’t like her breasts touched. How they were presented here; on display, but shrouded.

She did want to kiss Anne. Desperately. She pressed her lips together. 

Anne reached her, and leaned in to kiss her cheek. Delicately, due to the dark lipstick that matched her dress.

“You look…”

Anne smiled. “Yes?”

“Like you’ll steal the show.”

“You look ravishing. That dress is daring. No one else will look like you.”

“Catherine picked it,” Ann mumbled.

Anne lifted Ann’s chin. “Just say ‘Thank you.’”

“Thank you.” Ann smiled.

“Shall we?” Anne offered her elbow.

Ann took it. 

“And remember,” Anne said. “You aren’t paying me. You’re coming to my event next week. This is a _quid pro quo_.”

Somehow that seemed even more exotic and dangerous than what they’d already been doing.

“All right,” Ann said.

“And. If you’re not having fun, you’re doing something wrong. Pinch yourself and remind yourself of that every so often.”

“Got it.”

“And—“

Ann squeezed Anne’s arm. “‘And’ again?”

Anne smirked. “Just remember that everyone else is miserable.”

Ann laughed. They walked under the venue lights, toward the entrance.

“That’s a good start.” Anne bumped her shoulder.

***

The ballroom was two stories tall, with chandeliers bigger than cars. Hundreds of people swarmed around the multiple bars, the dance floor, the buffet table. A live band played. 

Ann thought of the _le bon ton,_ and laughed some more.

“And remember,” Anne whispered in her ear.

“Jesus Christ, Anne.” Ann didn’t look at her, preferring to search the crowd for people she knew. 

Anne’s fingers brushed Ann’s lower back. “There will be men here who will want to marry you. Immediately, upon sight.”

“What? That’s ridiculous.”

“You’re wealthy, you’re stunningly beautiful, and you’re exceedingly polite and kind. Try to bag a Senator’s son.”

“You think I’m beautiful?”

Anne stood straighter and regarded her. “In a certain light.”

“Ha! Well. Step one accomplished. I am having fun.”

“Do you know anyone?”

“There’s Harriet Parkhill. I’m afraid if I say hello she’ll latch onto me like a barnacle. She’s a very needy person.”

“Mm,” Anne said.

“Oh come on, Anne. I’m sure you have advice.”

Anne grinned. “Yes. Find the biggest circle of people and insinuate yourself into it. You won’t be the center of attention, but you’ll find yourself among friendly people. Then listen to the topic of conversation, and pretend to be interested. But if you’re not actually interested, retreat after two to three minutes.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Books, Ann. There are books.”

“What kind of books?”

“Etiquette. Socializing. Parties. Hosting. It’s just memorization and practice, Ann. Not some...innate ability that you don’t have because you’re shy or whatever.”

“Books.”

“Yes.”

“You must do a lot of reading,” Ann quipped.

“I rather do. What do you do all day?”

Ann bristled. She found a crowd of ten people, all men in tuxedos, some her age, most older, and strode over.

Anne did not follow.

The circle made room for her immediately and unconsciously. She smiled, nervous, wishing she was holding a glass of champagne, but no one did more than glance at her.

The oldest man was talking about New York real estate. It was improving with the rest of the economy, it seemed. Everyone would soon be rich. 

“Who are you with?” A young man, her age, barely free of college, asked her.

“With?”

“I haven’t seen you before. Are you someone’s wife, or—“ He smiled, holding out his hand for a shake.

She took it. “I”m here with no one. Er, myself. I’m a relative of the Rawsons.”

“Oh,” he pursed his lips and chuckled. “I’m Eddie Candoza.”

“The Congressman’s son?” 

“That’s me.”

Ann grinned. “I’m sorry, I was told only to talk to Senator’s sons.” 

“Oh, they’re so stuffy, you wouldn’t believe.”

The circle drifted away from them. Ann didn’t mind.

“So, are you into business? Or fashion? Or—“ Eddie cleared his throat.

“I’m not sure. Still trying to figure that out. Do you have any recommendations?”

“I’m studying the law. Don’t study the law.”

“Don’t study the law. Got it.” Ann said.

“Ann,” Anne said, drifting to her side. “Would you like something to drink?”

“A glass of champagne, please.” Ann recognized it as an opportunity for rescue, and didn’t take it.

“Of course.” Anne moved to the bar.

Eddie looked pleased with himself.

“You were saying?” Ann asked.

“I was right. That clenched it.” He leaned in. “You’re gay, too.”

Ann flushed crimson. “Too?”

“Like me.” He chuckled. “I have gaydar.”

“How did you know?”

“You don’t care what anyone here thinks of you. A woman on the prowl would care.”

Ann laughed. “You’re right. I’m here with her. Anne Lister.”

“But I don’t know her,” Eddie pouted.

“Then she’s here with me.”

His grin widened. “Lucky her.”

Anne returned with two glasses of champagne. “Sorry I didn’t ask what you wanted,” she said to Eddie.

“That’s all right, I’m a big boy. I can get my own drinks. So,” he said, “Who is Anne Lister?”

“I teach at the university. Ann’s the real star.”

Ann squared her shoulders.

Eddie said, “Yes, I guessed that. Well, over there is a young man by himself looking very uncomfortable. I must go talk to him. Ladies.” He inclined his head.

“Did you make a friend?” Anne asked.

“He seems nice enough. But I doubt we’ll go golfing.”

Anne sipped her champagne, peering at Ann over the rim of her glass, mischievously.

“What? What is it?” Ann said.

“You’re being pursued by fine young men. But I attract a different crowd. Older women.”

Ann frowned. “Like the ones you had before?”

Anne put her hand on Anne’s arm. “You misunderstand. I’m here to have fun. I am not looking… for anything more than you’re looking for. I promise.”

Ann swallowed. “You don’t have to promise.”

“But I do.”

Ann ignored the electricity flowing through her arm at Anne’s touch. “Thank you. Really.”

Anne dropped her hand. “Let’s party.”

***

They went through the party, talking to more charming people, some kind, some pompous. They found Albert, who fell in love with Anne Lister immediately. An hour passed, and Ann was tired. Tired of hearing about other people’s dreams and education and occupations, and tired of seeing Anne’s attention taken by flirting, by intense intellectual conversations she couldn’t follow, tired of worlds that didn’t touch hers.

She went out into the foyer for air. She wondered if Anne would follow. She sipped club soda.

“Ann!” 

Harriet was hurrying toward her, in a little black dress that showed no imagination, with bright eyes that showed too much.

“Hi, Harriet,” Ann said, accepting a hug.

“I saw you—I’ve been trying to say hello but it’s been so crowded and people keep talking to me—“ Harriet breathed somewhat heavily.

An unclaimed female. Ann thought about Anne’s words of warning. Harriet was in the thick of it.

“Who are you with?” Harriet said. She stared at Ann. “I saw you with that tall woman.”

“What? Oh, Anne. Anne Lister. She’s a professor at the university. She and I are friends. Good friends.”

“You’re not,” Harriet said. Then Harriet was standing in her personal space, her breath hot on Ann’s cheek. “You can’t, Ann. If the family finds out you’re… unnatural...They’ll lock you away, Ann. You can’t do this.”

“Harriet.” Ann stepped away. “I can do whatever I want.” But her heart was pounding, as if Harriet’s worry had infected her.

“But you can’t. You can’t, Ann. They’ll say you’re sick and they’ll—“

“Stop,” Ann said. “It’s just a party. We’re just friends.”

Harriet swallowed, shaking her head. “Call me, Ann. Call me tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Harriet patted her, and then disappeared back into the party.

Ann’s eyes filled with tears. Her stomach had recoiled at “sick” and she couldn’t shake it. Surely this was the modern age and people didn’t talk like that anymore. Didn’t say—Didn’t believe—

“There you are,” Anne said, coming into the foyer. “I was looking for you.”

Ann forced a smile.

Anne examined her face. “You’re ready for this to be over, aren’t you?”

“Yes. But if you want to—keep going.”

“Ann. I’m your friend. I’m here with you.”

Ann saged with relief. She studied the floor. She’d laughed and smiled for an hour, but didn’t feel successful. She felt used and drained. Her cheeks hurt.

“I have a surprise,” Anne said. “Look at me.”

Hesitantly, Ann lifted her gaze. Met Anne’s. Let Anne’s beaming face relax her.

“I booked us a room here. Upstairs. We can go and crash. We can be there in five minutes.”

“Oh, thank God.” Ann wanted to fling her arms around Anne. But she couldn’t. So she just stared, until Anne cocked her head and said “Come on.”

***

Upstairs, in the hotel room, Anne was on her immediately. Anne pressed her to the closed door, kissing her, touching her over her dress, pressing weight against her.

“I watched you all night,” Anne said. “And I couldn’t.. do what I wanted. It was torture.”

“Watching me was torture?” Ann asked, disbelieving.

“You don’t feel the same?”

Ann considered, as Anne sucked at her throat. “I guess I didn’t worry about it. I can have you whenever I want you.”

“How unequal we are,” Anne said, pushing Ann’s dress up, past her hips. She reached between Ann’s legs. “But how wet you are.”

“Well, of course. Non-stop.” Ann blushed, but smiled when Anne’s eyes met hers. “Can we get undressed?”

“I like the dress,” Anne said, skimming her breasts. 

Ann put her arms around Anne’s neck, accepting another kiss. “Are you pretending we’re different people?”

“I guess I am. How are you with that?”

“It’s fine,” Ann said, “But I really wished you’d worn a tuxedo.” Even the thought now aroused her. 

“So noted,” Anne said. She slipped a hand into Ann’s panties, stroking, and braced her other hand against the door, watching Ann. “Can I just look at you?”

“I feel like a pin-up,” Ann said, and posed accordingly.

The growl in Anne’s reaction made her quiver. She closed her eyes. “Touch me, Anne. Please. Just like that. I wore this for you. I wanted you to… like me.”

“You’re so beautiful. I have to have you.” Anne bit into her ear.

Ann shivered. 

Anne’s fingers were bringing her close, and she knew her orgasm would please Anne, that it would be a triumph for her. She felt sexy, and she liked it.

“Harder, Anne. Give it to me.”

Anne penetrated her. Ann stretched on her toes, groaning. “More,” she breathed.

She was no longer a pupil, but an object of Anne’s desire. Something wanted. She trembled. She came on Anne’s fingers, falling forward onto Anne, gripping her shoulders. “Anne,” she breathed. “Anne.”

“That was hot,” Anne said. She gathered herself, and led Anne to the bed. “But you’re right.”

“About what?” Ann was breathless, spent.

“You look just as good out of that dress as in it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it has been so long between chapters. This writer's block is killing me. It is not something I usually experience. Or ever. Stupid COVID.


	8. Beaujolais Cuvee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann Walker overcomes obstacles. NSFW.

_‘Now,’ said I, ‘the difference between you & me is, mine is theory, yours practice. I am taught by books, you by nature_. - 5 August 1923, Anne Lister’s diaries

***

Anne Lister laughed. She put her hand on a man’s arm. He nodded, smiling.

Across the room, Ann frowned. She felt out of place and rather stupid. She’d tried her Rawson ball tricks, talking to people, but they talked over her head, and didn’t deign to explain. She felt unwelcome; a modern girl in a museum. Anne wasn’t paying attention to her.

Ann wore her little black dress, a cocktail frock that generically matched the other women’s. Anne in her tux, by contrast, looked odder among company than she did alone. Her eyes too piercing, her height too much. Ann wondered about her day-to-day life, when they weren’t playing debutantes in New York City.

She turned away to study a space suit in a glass case. It looked worn, and cloth. How could it have protected someone in space? She imagined herself in it, floating through nothingness. Vastly uncomfortable.

“You’re not having fun,” Anne said from behind her. Ann shivered. Anne slid her hand over Ann’s shoulder.

“You’re right, I’m not,” Ann said.

“That’s rule one,” Anne said.

Ann turned around and glared. “Well, it’s not working. You’re over there...in your element. Did you just bring me here because I’m pretty? I feel like a piece of meat. Just paraded around for a pretty smile.”

“As I felt last week,” Anne said, mildly.

Ann flushed with guilt, and it reduced her huffiness. Still, she frowned.

Anne said, “Ann, you can do anything you want. You can study this space man. You can lock yourselves downstairs in the aquarium where they keep the tiny sharks. But I recommend you look around you. There are plenty of other people just as out of place. Wives, junior instructors. Men who’d rather be anywhere else. People who think themselves frauds. You’re not a singular person out of her element. That’s everyone.”

Ann took a deep breath. She’d forgotten the first first rule Anne Lister had ever given her. No one cared what Ann thought, or looked like, or was.

She studied Anne in her tuxedo, and her hair in a bun, and her painted fingernails black. Striking and cool. Anne, who was sleeping with her. Anne, whose jaw Ann wanted to take in her fingers, trace, capture.

“So what do you advise me to do?” Ann asked.

“Have another drink, first. You need to loosen up. Then find the loneliest girl in the room, and talk to her.” Anne checked her watch. “Just another hour, and then we can go.”

Ann nodded. “Okay.”

She no longer felt like the loneliest girl in the room herself. Anne had showered her with just a bit of attention and brightened her whole night. _Dangerous_. Ann definitely wanted a drink.

She ordered a White Lady, which made the bartender roll his eyes, but soon she had a nice white martini to contrast with her black dress, and she walked over to an Asian woman her own age standing at the edge of a circle of talking men. There was a frozen expression on the woman’s face.

Ann stepped up to her side. “Hi, I’m Ann Walker. I don’t know anything about science.”

The woman smiled. “Theresa Choi. I don’t either. I’m a film student.”

They walked away from the circle, Ann sipping her drink, Theresa swirling ice in her plastic cup. “Are you here with anyone?” Ann asked.

“Not anymore. God, how boring. This’ll be my last date with him.”

“Tell me about it. Did you know there are sharks downstairs?”

“I love sharks.” Theresa beamed.

“Me too. Let’s go.”

They found several other lost souls in the aquarium. Their own circle of commiseration and snobbishness over the upstairs snobbishness.

It was fun.

***

“I want...” Ann faltered. She looked up at the dark ceiling.

She and Anne were in their own apartments, on the phone with each other. It had become common. Once a week, and now twice. Sometimes three times if something happened in their lives worth talking about. Their carefully-practiced banter had changed into camaraderie. They had trouble hanging up. Sometimes they masturbated together.

“What do you want?” The throaty, low voice nearly undid Ann.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I want to take what we do to the next level.”

“What we do?” Anne’s voice still sexy, but more infuriating in its faux question.

“Have sex.”

There was a pause. Ann clenched the phone in her hand, the receiver hot.

“What do you think the next level is, Ann?”

“I don’t know. I want you to fuck me. Really fuck me. I want to...” Ann faltered, but she didn’t need prompting this time, not with her cheeks burning on the forceful way she’d said “fuck.” “I want to be stronger.”

She’d meant to say better. Or more confident.

“You want the ability to have sex with someone other than me,” Anne surmised.

How did Anne read her mind? “I don’t want to,” Ann crooned apologetically. “I just want to be able to.”

“And you’re not?”

Anne had awakened her to a world of furtive smiles and exchanged phone numbers and casual invitations. But they were too—

“I haven’t had very good experiences. Until now,” Ann said.

“Mm.”

“Come to dinner Saturday? I’ll cook you a steak,” Ann said. “You...bring the rest.”

“Okay, Ann.”

Ann’s toes curled when Anne said her name. “What kind of steak?”

“Filet mingon.”

“That’s not like you.”

“It requires extreme delicacy,” Anne said. “Gentleness.”

“Right.” Ann took a deep breath. “Right.”

***

Ann made Catherine come to the butcher with her. Neither of them had ever been to a butcher. They stood awkwardly in line.

“Harriet Parkhill called me,” Catherine said.

“Oh, God.”

“She says you’re a _lesbian_.” Catherine giggled.

“What was the point of her telling you that?”

“That I needed to keep an eye on you for...unnatural behaviors.”

“Does she think I’m going to kiss you?”

“You could kiss me.”

Ann swatted Catherine. “She wants to lock me away.”

They moved up in line.

“I think she wants you to be normal,” Catherine said.

Ann scoffed.

“Anyhow, I said I’d get you into a nunnery,” Catherine said. “Where you can have all the lesbian sex you want.” She laughed at her own joke.

“Fabulous. Has she told my elder cousins?”

“Oh she’s told everybody.”

They reached the butcher. Ann pursed her lips. “Uh, filet mignon?”

“Short or whole?” He asked.

Her eyes widened.

He shook his head. “How many people?”

“Two.”

He shouted orders to his clerk, and came back with a piece of meat that looked like a squat, fat candle.

“Cut it in half.” He showed her. “And go buy a meat thermometer.”

“Thank you,” Ann said, and paid him his exorbitant price.

***

“What does it taste like to you?” Anne asked, as Ann cut another slice of pink meat.

It didn’t taste like anything. Ann considered and chewed, as they sat at her dining room table, Central Park glittering in the dark outside the window.

“Like...butter.” She chased the taste. It was there, just faintly.

Anne nodded. “You cooked it perfectly.”

“I bought a meat thermometer,” Ann said.

“Just say, ‘Thank you.’”

Ann grinned, lifting her wine glass and tilting it toward Anne. “Thank you.”

Ann wore the same little black dress she’d worn to the museum, while Anne was in chic casual, a long white shirt and tailored black slacks. They made an elegant pair. Ann was pleased the meal matched.

She mostly watched. Anne ate her steak, the French string beans, and the too-salty mushroom and cream sauce.

Anne stole little glances at her, smiled, but mostly focused on the food.

Ann drank more than she would usually. The wine was a very light beaujolais cuvee, something that wouldn’t threaten the fragile steak, but wouldn’t make Ann sick like too much white wine would. She’d learned that lesson more than once.

She had plans, and she had prepared this meal with intent.

Anne had brought a messenger bag of... something.

After dinner, Anne helped her clean up. They washed dishes together. Chatted amiably. Ann thought she should feel nervous, anticipatory, but she just felt calm.

When Anne went to the bathroom, Ann walked to the window, looking out. She took the city for granted. She didn’t care about it the way others did. Identifying themselves as New Yorkers. She didn’t feel tough enough for that. She worried about being attacked on the subway. She never ventured out of Manhattan.

Footsteps padded, and then Anne was behind her, wrapping herself around Anne’s waist. “Are you thinking deep thoughts?”

Ann leaned back into Anne’s strength. “Thinking about my lack of deep thoughts.”

Anne kissed her hair. “People who don’t think deep thoughts don’t think about their lack of deep thoughts, either.”

Ann murmured a grudging acquiescence.

“You wanted to do something different?” Anne asked.

“Something... more.” Ann considered her words—was she thinking deeply again? “Something less safe.”

Anne was gently swaying with her. “Have you had unpleasant sexual experiences, Ann?”

“You could say that.”

“Terrifying ones?”

The word awakened Ann’s nerves. She trembled. “Yes.”

“Tell me about it,” Anne said.

“No.” _Fix me_. “I want to be with you.”

Anne shifted. She grasped Ann’s wrists, and then pushed them together. She held them tightly.

“Can you break free?” Anne asked.

Ann tried to push her wrists apart. Anne was unyielding. So strong. This fierce creature had snagged her and Ann felt perfectly safe.

And aroused, ceding control to someone else. Caught. She struggled again, trying to twist around to face Anne. She couldn’t.

She smiled.

Anne caught her expression in the reflection of the window, and smiled back. Hugged her even more tightly, which was painful, but still comforting.

“You are not scary,” Ann said.

“Tell that to my students,” Anne said, dipping to nuzzle Anne’s neck.

“They don’t know you.”

Anne didn’t say anything. She released Ann and turned her around. They kissed, brief and sweet. Anne led Ann to the bed.

“I’d like to undress you,” Anne said.

“Please.”

“I’m going to keep my clothes on.”

Ann pursed her lips. Always before, their exchanges had been equal. What was the phrase Anne had used? _Quid pro quo_. Anne had insisted that she was not a tool to get Ann off.

Ann suddenly didn’t know what to think. What to do. She suspected Anne was not going to tell her.

“Okay,” Ann said.

Anne undressed her with perfunctory care, lying her clothes on the dresser, not letting her hands stray as she pulled down panties. Then she arranged a pillow near the foot of the bed.

“Lie down, on your stomach, with your hips over the pillow,” Anne said.

Ann did, and she couldn’t see Anne. Was Anne admiring her ass, presented like an ambrosia platter? Was she going to be spanked?

Did she want to be spanked?

“Are you comfortable?” Anne asked. Her voice sounded far away. Then there was a weight on the bed. Anne shifting.

Ann inventoried. She was. She had her arms folded under her head, and the arch of her back was unfamiliar, but cozy. “Yes.”

“Good.”

Anne sat beside her. She stroked Ann’s bare back. “Why did you take Tib’s flower-arranging class?”

Ann closed her eyes as Anne’s hands traveled over her skin. “I wanted a skill. I wanted to be able to do something.”

“And did you get that out of the class?”

Ann’s lips curved into a smile. “Not in the way I expected.”

Anne moved down to stroke her ass. Ann’s arousal, which had been on a quiet simmer, turned up the heat. She could feel the wetness gathering near Anne’s hands. Not quite close enough. She mewled, hoping Anne would get the hint.

A brush of lips against her spine, just above her hands.

“Anne?”

Anne’s tongue traced a path lower, pointed and firm, between Ann’s cheeks and then lower, teasing her clit before Anne moved back to massaging her.

Ann’s rear entrance suddenly came alive in a way Ann had never experienced. It joined her clit in singing, in begging for more of Anne.

“Anne,” Ann breathed.

Anne licked her again, her tongue, impossibly long and impossibly slow.

Ann was on fire. She had no thoughts of being exposed, of being opened like this, only pleasure. Security. She let out a heavy breath, had trouble bringing it back in.

Anne entered her. Her fingers were cool and slick. She stroked a few times before adding a third finger, pushing against Ann’s walls, going where Ann’s body was reluctant to let her.

Ann moaned, shifting on the bed, trying to make it easier to have Anne inside her.

“It this okay?” Anne asked.

“I want more,” Ann said.

Anne chuckled. Then there was a sound of something tearing, and Anne’s fingers inside her again, then retreating. Something firmer than fingers pushed into her. Smaller than her fingers, easier to take, but going so much deeper. Ann felt possessed. Her moans wouldn’t be stopped. She lifted her hips toward Anne.

“What is that?” Ann gasped.

“It’s called a dildo,” Anne said, sliding the thing in and out.

Ann’s cheeks turned crimson. That hadn’t been what she’d meant. She’d known. Her question had really been _What are you doing to me?_

“What are you doing to me?” She asked, bracing herself to be chastened again.

Anne bent low to her ear. “I’m fucking you, Ann.” She shoved the dildo in harder, and Ann’s toes curled.

Anne sat up, and then Anne’s finger, slick with lube, was circling Ann’s rear entrance.

“Would you let anyone do this to you?” Anne asked.

“It feels so good,” Ann murmured, ignoring the content of Anne’s words, but enjoying the sound.

She didn’t want to imagine a life outside Anne’s hands and the toy inside her.

For long minutes there was pleasure. The fucking was constant, the hand traveling over her skin more capricious. The desire licking at her spine, chasing her clit, started to become unbearable.

“Anne. Please,” Ann begged. She was sweating into the bed, trickling lube and arousal between her legs, sloppy and undone and ready to explode, no matter the consequences.

Anne, with great mercy, stood behind her on the bed, one hand pumping the dildo in and out of her, filling her, stretching her, the other finding her clit, stroking out of time, and Ann, disjointed, came. She shuddered through the orgasm, unable to move from her now cramping position. The dildo stilled but the fingers against her clit continued strumming.

“Stop,” she said, sagging into the bed.

Anne let her go, and came to sat beside her head on the bed.

“Anne,” Ann said, holding still. Holding herself together.

Anne stroked her hair.

“I didn’t know my body could feel like that. All that. Without... coming immediately.”

“Mm. Our bodies are capable of so much.”

Ann rolled onto her back. Anne yanked the pillow from under her, tossing it on the bed. Ann gazed up at Anne, who was still in her white blouse, long-sleeved with emerald cufflinks, and black slacks.

Ann, who had been devoured by Anne’s touches, surged with the desire to do the same to Anne. To push Anne to feel everything. To express gratitude. To feel Anne over her, around her, aching with pleasure.

Ann slid off the bed and onto her knees. Anne raised her eyebrows in surprise.

Ann reached for the zipper of Anne’s pants.

“Ann, you don’t have to—“

“I want to consume you,” Ann said.

Anne chuckled. “Consume me?” She patiently let Ann open her pants, and then yank them off her hips.

Ann found herself face-to-face with Anne’s tight, black shorts. She licked her lips. She had not paid enough attention to Anne’s underwear, though she knew it varied. Panties one day, boxers the next.

Ann pressed her fingers to Anne’s center, feeling the wet cotton, hearing Anne moan above her.

She peeled the shorts from Anne’s body. Now she could smell Anne’s musk. Anne had enjoyed what she’d done to Ann. Ann remembered Anne’s desire when she’d worn the flapper dress. Anne’s attraction to her was evident now before her. Ann was unable to resist.

She pushed Anne’s thighs apart and covered Anne with her mouth.

Anne moaned. Her fingers found Ann’s hair. She held on.

Ann devoured Anne with her lips and tongue fingers. She buried herself in Anne’s wet heat, already knowing how to stroke Anne’s clit just so, knowing that Anne liked pressure against her vulva more than penetration.

Anne’s groan was a particular, keening sound that Ann claimed as her own. Anne fell back onto the bed, her knees bent.

“Ann...”

Ann followed, pursuing, loving the sound of her own name. Anne heaved before her. She pressed Ann’s head to her firmly. Ann felt Anne’s need for her. She kept her mouth moving as Anne came, trembling, and then twisting away from her.

“Ann,” Anne said. “How.”

Anne panted, spread out on the bed.

Ann sat at her side. Cupped her cheek. “I know what you like.”

“It’s like you were born for it,” Anne breathed.

***

They sat together against the headboard, half-watching _NYPD Blue._

“That redhead, he’s going places,” Ann said.

“Mm.”

“Hey,” Ann nudged Anne’s thigh. “What thoughts are so deep that you can’t appreciate a man in a suit?”

“Caruso, right Or is that the heavy one?”

“Anne.” Ann shifted, facing Anne’s profile.

Anne inhaled deeply and looked at the ceiling. Her lip trembled until she bit into it. “I’ve slept with a lot of women.”

“Always a great way to start a conversation with your lover,” Ann quipped.

Anne grinned. “Hey, you asked.”

“That’s right. Go on.” Ann kissed Anne’s shoulder.

“Some just wanted to use me to get off. It wasn’t bad. Some enjoyed the things they could do to me. Mariana loved me enough to make love to me. She took pride in pleasing me.” Anne pressed her lips together.

“I’m still loving this conversation.” Ann nudged Anne.

“No one’s ever seen sex as a way to grow as a person.” Anne glanced at Ann.

“Do I do that?”

“Do you do that? Ann, that’s all you do.”

“Okay.” Ann considered. “And you like that?”

Anne looked back at the ceiling. “Yes.”

Ann sat against the headboard, leaning against Anne’s arm. “You’re a strong, bold person, Anne. You always know exactly what to do, and you think that if there’s something you don’t know, you can learn it in a book.”

“Well...Okay. Your turn to go on.”

Ann reached over and took Anne’s hand. “You have no idea what it’s like to be afraid. Every moment of your life. As a child. As a teenager. As a young woman. And then one day... you’re not afraid anymore. You look around and go, ‘What the fuck do I do now?’ It’s like waking up.”

Anne glanced at her. “You’re not afraid of anything?”

“Not when I’m with you.”

“You’re wrong. I didn’t get what I wanted. I am nothing but inadequate when it comes to Stephen Covey.” Anne hesitated. “But not when I’m with you, either.”

Ann squeezed Anne’s hand.

The television showed end credits.

“All right, time for sleep,” Ann said.

“Sure you don’t want to go again?”

“I didn’t schedule a student appointment at 7 AM,” Ann said.

Anne slid down into the bed, resting her head on the pillow. “I’m a very busy person, Ann.”

Ann stretched out by Anne’s side. “Thank you for spending some of your time getting busy with me.”

Anne rolled her eyes, but laughed when Ann kissed her.

***

Ann sat primly in a straight-backed chair while the psychiatrist, Abraham Vering, read her questionnaire. He’d already gone over her prescriptions, one by one, and weighed her and taken her blood pressure. She suspected he’d talked to her other doctors. There was a water feature on his desk, bubbling over smooth stones. She kept glancing at it.

Abraham looked up at her. “I understand you’re here at the pressure of a friend of mine, your cousin?”

“Yes. Eliza Priestly.” Ann wrinkled her nose. She didn’t quite know the connection between her cousin and this handsome black man with a twinkle in his eye. Did he, too, know Eliza Priestly was a joke?

“And she was your guardian?” He asked seriously.

Ann frowned, still evaluating him. “No, that was my sister, shared with Eliza’s husband, William.”

Abraham nodded. “And that terminated...five years ago?”

“Yes.”

“Dr. Belcombe testified on your behalf.”

“He is… a good doctor.”

“I hope I am, too, Ms. Walker.” He sat back in his chair. “What have you been doing since then?”

“Doing?” Ann asked, cursing inwardly as her voice cracked. She disliked talking to doctors. Especially at Eliza’s request.

“With your time,” he clarified.

“I guess I spent the first few years getting acclimated to living on my own. Laundry and food and transportation. Then I started taking a few classes at the university. I never got very far in my education. I didn’t mesh well with other students.” She remembered her high school as full of demonic faces.

“I see. Do you resent Eliza’s request that you see me?”

“It...scares me.” Ann kicked herself again. She had told Anne that nothing scared her anymore.

“Why is that? Do you think I’m going to institutionalize you?”

“Did Eliza tell you why she thought I was in trouble?”

Abraham shook his head. “Just ‘unnatural inclinations.’ We don’t diagnose people with hysteria anymore, Ms. Walker. If I weren’t one of her donors I wouldn’t have even taken the appointment. But cash and friendship have value.”

“She thinks I’m a homosexual,” Ann blurted out, and then immediately bit her lip. She felt like she was nineteen again, trying to explain how her dress had been ripped at the ball.

“Are you?”

“Am I?” Ann asked.

“Are you a homosexual?”

Ann considered. No one had asked her before. Except Harriet’s frantic babbling. “Yes. I am a lesbian.”

Abraham nodded. “We don’t institutionalize people for that anymore, either.”

“Not even a nunnery?” Ann tried to joke.

He smiled. “That’s certainly not my part of the business. No, you seem fine. Unless you are being abused by your... partner? Girlfriend?”

“No,” Ann said.

“I’m certainly willing to tell Eliza to get off your back, Ms. Walker. But I have to ask, do you have goals in life? Plans?”

“I’m searching for them.That’s why I started classes. I’d like to do charity work, but it all sounds... so overwhelming. I have a lot of money and nothing to do with it.” Ann sighed. “My whole life has been overwhelming. Poor little rich girl. I’m sorry—” She stopped rambling.

“What are you sorry for?”

“My whole existence, I guess.”

“Seems silly to feel that way.” He smiled. “But, you’re not my patient, really. You’re a friend of a friend. Let’s see. You are a lesbian,” Abraham said.

“Yes, I think we both know that now.”

“And you are rich. You’re a Walker.”

“Okay.”

“Do you like children?”

“Yes. I don’t want to have any. But my sister has four. I love seeing them.”

“There are a lot of lesbians in New York City that are not rich, Ms. Walker. I see them in my line of work, though they do not receive the care that they need.They are poor, often minorities, and they often have children. More than you would think.”

“I haven’t thought,” Ann said.

Abraham nodded. “Too often ‘lesbian’ also means ‘unfit mother.’ If you were so inclined, you could set up a legal defense fund. Legal aid can be burdensome, but if you limited yourself to just one cause, one singular focus that related to your life, you could make a real difference helping one woman at a time.”

Ann considered. “And... are there other charity opportunities for... my people?” She winced. “Gay people?”

“Yes. The youth. People with AIDS. Sexual advocacy. Getting discrimination laws off the books. Getting better treatment from police.”

“I’m starting to get overwhelmed again,” Ann said.

“It’s overwhelming. You have all the time in the world. Think of the good things in your life, and think about how you’d help others achieve those things.”

“Thank you, Dr. Vering. And thank you for telling Eliza Priestly where to stick it.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Anytime, Ms. Walker. People like that can fuck right off.”


	9. Growing Strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne's fantasy. NSFW.

“Do you fantasize? About me? I mean, do you fantasize about me?” Ann asked.

Ann bit her lip. That had come out all wrong. She pressed the phone to her ear, trying to catch Anne’s reaction in the soft breathing sounds coming from the other end. Ann lay naked on her back on top of the bedcovers, alone in her apartment. It was nearly midnight. The witching hour. That had given her some courage.

“Of course,” came Anne’s low, breathy response.

“Tell me. I want to do something you want to do.”

“We always do something I want to do,” Anne said.

“Anne. Please.”

A pause. “I could tell you. Or I could show you.”

“You could ‘show and tell’ me.” Ann winced. Maybe instead of flower arranging she should take an English or communication class. Or at least, crack a book. Maybe Anne had some recommendations. Better to not change the subject.

“It involves fucking you. With that toy I brought last week.”

Ann, though, didn’t flash to the dildo, but the delicious sensation of Anne’s tongue between her asscheeks. She shivered. “Whatever you want.”

“I’ll give it some thought, Ann.”

Ann swallowed.

“Did that excite you?” Anne asked, nearly purring the words.

“Yes.”

The clock struck midnight.

“ _Show_ me,” Anne said.

Ann slid her hand between her legs.

***

Anne’s fantasy involved Ann in another 20s dress. Silver and black, this time, with beads that outlined peacock feathers around her knees. It almost swirled when she turned, but was too skin-tight. Anne felt exposed, with her calves bare and every line of her revealed. She resisted the urge to tug the dress down before she walked up narrow stars bar Anne had invited to her to.

She was uncomfortable. Is this how Anne felt, doing things Ann had asked her to?

The door read _Supidi_ , and Ann pushed it open. The room beyond was narrow and dark, with only lights above the bar that dominated the whole right wall. There were booths along the other side.

Ann crept in, feeling the chill of air conditioner against her dress.

Anne sat at the bar, and turned to her, with a smile that became animated when she took in Ann’s outfit. Anne’s lips parted. She beckoned Ann closer with a flick of her wrist.

Anne wore a tuxedo blazer over a white, collared shirt that was unbuttoned at the throat. Her black slacks matched, and she wore calf-high black boots that shone near the dark floor. The blazer had shoulder pads, which gave Anne a more broad, masculine look than usual, and her hair was down, straight around her shoulders, belying the fabric’s cut.

Ann moved close enough for Anne to take her hand and pull her even closer, kissing her, fully, right in the middle of the bar. “You look... breathtaking,” Anne said.

“And you’ve got lipstick on the corner of your mouth.” Ann picked up a cocktail napkin to dab it away.

“Leave it. You’ve marked me,” Anne said, and smiled low and dangerous.

Ann slid into the seat beside her at the bar. She mulled over Anne’s fantasy. Was this how Anne wanted to be seen? The blazer would make her look even taller than usual, and the boots were heeled.

“You look incredible,” Ann said, looking her up and down again. “Those boots...”

“I’m glad you noticed. I always want to wear them out but they kill my feet. Not for teaching.”

Ann smiled, relaxing in Anne’s easy manner. “What shall I have?”

Anne slid over a menu. “I’m having a Gibson.”

Ann surveyed the menu. Half the words were in Japanese. She faltered. “Order for me.”

“Order for a beautiful lady? Of course,” Anne said. Her voice was intoxicating.

Ann had no idea why they were in a bar, instead of in bed.

“She’ll have the fizz,” Anne said to the bartender, who wore an actual tuxedo shirt and a little black bowtie.

“Thanks,” Ann said.

Anne put her hand on Ann’s thigh. “You seem nervous.”

“This is a lot to take in. I had no idea this place existed. And here I was taking you to Daniel.”

Anne rubbed in circles. “This is a special occasion, too. A chance to be ourselves.”

Was Ann this person in this dress? She remembered wearing a similar dress to the ball, feeling confident, feeling admired. People wanting to talk to her. Liking her.

She smiled, and when the fizz arrived, took a sip. Sharp gin and sharp lemon. Reassuring in their boldness.

She took another sip. “This is lovely, Anne.”

“I’ll say.” Anne shifted, resting her arm along the back of Ann’s chair, surveying the bottles on the bar, bright glass and color.

“How was work?” Ann asked. The alcohol was hitting her nearly-empty stomach in a pleasurable, painful way. She set the glass down.

“Do you know why I became a biologist?” Anne asked.

“A love of plants?”

Anne chuckled. “That’s botany. I wanted to figure myself out. Why was I... me. How it come to be? What did it mean? I took the Behaviorist approach, but from the scientific perspective, not the psychological, of course.”

“Of course,” Ann said. She’d twisted in her chair, to face Anne, to see the gleam Anne got in her eye when she talked about her passions.

“Are we all just atoms? Cells? Dopamine? I mean, we are.” Anne said. She chuckled. “I still don’t know what it means. I’m still fascinated.”

“And fascinating,” Ann said, wanting to reach out, cup Anne’s face and make Anne look at her like that, shining and curious.

Anne gave her a brilliant smile. “And then you come along. And I’m not saying everything has gone wrong, but everything has gone so differently for you, and yet, we co-exist. Here we sit, together.”

Ann felt a lump her throat. She tore herself away from Anne’s gaze and picked up her fizz. She had never been interested in anything the way Anne was interested in everything. Except in Anne herself, who brought Ann a present every time they encountered one another: newness.

“Do you love art?” Anne asked.

“Yes. Yes, I—“ Ann painted a lot of flowers. Is that what had led her to a flower-arranging class? “I like painting something, and then it is different from its original subject—say, a rose—but it’s still identifiable as a rose. I’ve taken something from it, but given something back. It’s now my rose. And I haven’t hurt the thing I’ve taken it from. Van Gogh—He took flowers. They’re still flowers, but they’re also—pain. Not only his pain. The flowers’, too.”

Anne cupped Ann’s cheek, beaming at her, and Ann was afraid Anne would kiss her again. But her hand dropped to Ann’s shoulder, and then her elbow.

“Plants are driven by the same biological impulses we are. Survival. Health. Expansion. Legacy.”

“I thought you didn’t know anything about plants,” Ann quipped.

“I suppose I know enough.”

Anne picked up her drink, and lost the light in her eyes to brooding. She studied herself in the bar’s mirror.

Ann scooted her chair closer, so their hips touched. She settled in and watched the bartender work. Between she and Anne there would be flirting, there would be games and delights and too-intimate talks, but for now she enjoyed the space in the silence.

She’d forgotten about the dress, until a man touched her arm. “Haven’t seen you here before,” he said.

“I’m here with my friend,” she said firmly, placing her hand on Anne’s arm.

He shuffled off.

Anne smirked. “Another drink?”

“Maybe something sweeter?”

Anne ordered something with watermelon for Ann, and another Gibson for herself.

Ann reached out for Anne’s arm again, enjoying the feel of her. The blazer fabric was sleek an expensive, and underneath, Anne, whose body she enjoyed. Anne watched her patiently until their drinks came.

Anne sipped hers. “Do you remember what we talked about the other night?”

“Your fantasy,” Ann said. She dared not move; not reach for her own glass.

Anne took Ann’s hand and pressed it to her thigh. In the darkness, their seats pressed together, Ann couldn’t quite see where she was being led. Then she felt it.

Something hard and artificial along Anne’s inner thigh. Ann nearly giggled. But then, as Anne pressed harder, Anne made a faint sound. One Ann had heard before. A noise of arousal Anne could not quite hide.

Ann followed the path of the dildo to Anne’s crotch and frowned as it presented a barrier between her and Anne’s core.

It’s similarity to a penis was barely an afterthought. It wasn’t hot and unwanted and visceral. It didn’t feel like a weapon. More like a tool. When she pushed, Anne’s lips parted. Ann couldn’t quite feel Anne beneath her fingers, but she could control Anne’s reaction. A tool to leverage Anne.

Suddenly, she wanted to do things that were inappropriate even in a speakeasy.

“Let’s go home soon,” Ann said, leaning away to finally take a sip of her drink. A big sip that filled her mouth with sweetness.

Anne nodded. “My place.”

“Your place?”

“Is that all right?”

“Yes.”

Anne called for the check.

***

Anne’s place had a microscope. It dominated a worktable in Anne’s study. There was a box of slides and a few petri dishes. No test tubes. One wall was full of books. A window showed the brick wall of the building next door. There were two practical office chairs and a reading nook.

Ann barely had time to take it all in before Anne whisked her away. They’d barely seen the main living space, beige with Oriental rugs and tasteful knick-knacks and plaques. A spotless kitchen—cherry cabinets.

Anne led Ann to the bedroom, closed the door, and began taking off her blazer. She’d already left her boots in the main room.

“You wore that...thing...all night? In public?” Ann bent down to unstrap her heels and kick them off.

Anne hung her blazer on a hanger and then turned to Ann, wearing her open-collared white shirt, which she untucked from her pants. “Do you want to call it my ‘cock’?”

Ann wanted to kiss the hollow of Anne’s throat. She stepped forward, stopping Anne from undressing. “Your cock. Yours.” She kissed Anne’s jaw and then moved down her neck, rubbing her nose against Anne’s skin. She’d never said the word ‘cock’ before. It didn’t bring up any associations but Anne.

Ann swiped her tongue across Anne’s throat, and then pulled at her shirt collar, searching for her collarbone to trace. Her free hand went between Anne’s legs and gripped the thing again; already knowing how to tease Anne with it. Pressure without satisfaction.

“Say it again,” Anne said.

Ann stood on tiptoes to whisper into Anne’s ear. “Your cock.”

Anne groaned.

Ann nipped her earlobe. She slid down her knees. Anne, above her, gazed down intently, and Ann felt Anne’s gaze on the curve of her breasts in the dress, the way the hemline moved up when Ann crouched. Ann felt an enormous sense of power.

Anne worked on uncuffing her shirt, impatiently glancing at the cuffs while trying to keep her attention on Ann.

Ann found Anne’s cock, easily now, and held it firm with one hand and unzipped Anne’s slacks with the other. She wasn’t sure what to expect.

Instead of underwear, Anne wore a black nylon harness, and jutting proudly from the front of it was a purple dildo. Mauve, really. Textured. Ann wondered how those lines would feel inside her.

“Why purple?” Ann asked, studying it.

“Uh.”

Ann looked up, meeting Anne’s eyes.

Anne sighed and said, “I thought it was pretty.”

“It is.”

Ann wrapped her hand around it. “Have you used it before?”

“No. I mean, not this one. I bought it last week.”

Ann squeezed. The material—not quite plastic—was firm. Bigger than Anne’s fingers. “I want it inside me,” Ann said.

“It’s my fantasy,” Anne said. She pulled Ann up from her knees.

“Oh.” Ann balanced on her feet. “What do you want?”

“I want you to take off your panties,” Anne said.

Ann reached under her dress and pulled down her panties, white silk, and soaked through. She stepped out of them gingerly, and then handed them to Anne.

Anne took them and draped them, and her shirt, over a valet stand. Then she went to an easy chair by the window. This window had a better view of other buildings, and the street eight floors below. There was the faint sound of traffic.

Anne sat in the chair, looking professorial, at ease, even in nakedness, and picked up a bottle from the line of bottles along the window. She squirted lube from it onto her hand, and began rubbing it into her cock.

Ann wanted it _in her._ “Anne.” She went to the chair. “Don’t tease.”

“Kiss me.”

Ann bent and kissed her, her mouth opening to Anne’s hungry exploration. Anne pulled her closer, and took Ann’s hand and pressed it to her cock, now warm and wet. “Please,” Ann whimpered.

“Please, what?”

“I want your cock,” Ann said. She waited for lightning to strike her down.

Anne grinned at her.

“Come on,” Anne said, and helped lift her into the chair, her knees pressed around Anne’s hips. Anne held her up. “You have to do it.”

“Me?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Ann took the cock in her hand, and slowly, awkwardly, pressed it to her center, searching until she pressed just the head in. Then, adjusting, she slid lower, the angle of Anne’s cock moving with her, until she had to let go and put her hands on Anne’s shoulders.

Exquisitely filled, and still facing Anne, her hands free to roam over Anne’s body, kisses readily available, was a new and wonderful sensation.

Then Anne’s hips moved.

Ann moaned as the fullness moved in her. She kissed Anne, hard, as she sank into Anne’s lap.

Anne’s hands found her hips and guided her through several thrusts.

“Oh, Anne,” Ann said, her head dropping to Anne’s shoulder.

Anne grunted. The cock seemed to connect Ann to Anne’s clit. Every thrust produced gasps and grunts and soft mewls of pleasure. Anne was finally fucking her. Taking her, in a way she had refused to before.

“Yes,” Ann begged. “More.”

Anne was straining, rocking them together. Concentrating hard.

Ann turned her head. Her lips were close to Anne’s ear. “I want you to come while you’re still inside me.”

Anne groaned.

Never had Ann had so much power over Anne’s pleasure. Encouraged, she said, “I want you to do the things to me that you think about at night.”

Anne held Ann’s hips against her, until Ann’s thighs burned, and instead of thrusting, ground into her, slow and determined.

“Anne, fuck me,” Ann breathed.

Anne arched, and stilled, letting out a soft keen, her eyes closed. Then she ground into Ann once more, shivering, before finally settling back in the chair.

Ann kissed her neck.

Anne guided Ann off her cock and into a standing position in front of the chair. She gazed at Ann with lidded eyes.

“It’s the dress, isn’t it?” Ann asked.

Anne grinned. “The beads. I love beads.”She got up, the cock heavy between her legs.

Ann turned around and Anne unzipped the dress. She helped Ann step out of it and then hung it on the valet. Ann added her strapless bra.

“Are you sore?” Anne asked.

“Am I—“ Ann inventoried. “Yes,” she said, reluctantly.

“Takes some getting used to,” Anne said.

“I want to do it again.”

“We will.”

Anne opened the buckles of the harness and removed it and the dildo, and carried it out of the bedroom. When she returned, she was gloriously naked, still Anne, and Ann wanted her.

Anne took Ann into her arms, giving her a long, full-bodied hug. Then she guided Ann to the bed. “I know just the cure.”

“Oh?” Ann found herself lying on her back.

Anne crouched between her legs. “Yes. Hold on tight.” She lowered her head.

Ann buried her fingers in Anne’s hair, tugging, opening herself to Anne.

***

Ann was still sore when she met Tib for lunch the next day, at a subway stop, and it kept a goofy, beaming smile on her face. Tib teased her, good-naturedly, and then walked with her a few blocks to the youth shelter before they headed to the restaurant “I have to drop off a check,” Tib had said.

The main room of the shelter was crowded with teenagers, and some younger children, who were mostly watching one girl playing a video game on the main TV screen, and giving her advice.

Tib ducked into an office.

Ann looked around. Some of the kids had partially-shaved hair, some dyed different colors, and many had piercings.

“Ready?” Tib asked.

They walked another block to a cafe for lunch, and sat on the sidewalk outside. Ann had champagne. Tib had water.

“Tib, those kids.”

“Yeah?”

“A lot of them seemed...”

Tib raised an eyebrow, her mouth quirked into a suspicious grin.

“Gay?”

“Many of them. About one third of the youth that come through. Some from small towns, thinking New York is the place to be.”

“What do they need?”

“Need?” Tib asked. She took an impressively-large bite of her BLT.

“Money? Or...” Ann pushed some salmon around her plate with her fork.

“I’ll tell you what a lot of them need. Food and shelter are taken care of. They even got health care. Sort of. But counseling. Free counseling is hard to get. Especially the psychiatric kind. And they have some fucked up psyches.”

“What if it wasn’t free?” Ann asked.

“Huh?” Tib took another ferocious bite.

“My doc—friend—wants me to set up a charity. Maybe for legal advice for lesbian mothers. But I have a lot of connections to the psychiatric world. I could sponsor...”

“Yeah,” Tib said, chewing. “Let me talk to some people.” She swallowed. “Not every poor gay kid can be me. Or Anne Lister.”

Ann smiled. “Not even Anne Lister is really Anne Lister.”

Tib gave her and odd look, but said nothing.

Ann sipped her champagne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not mean for there to be so much about flowers. Despite the title. It was just a Game of Thrones reference. To flowers. But still!


	10. Rise Above It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fragments of a finale.

Ann was on her second date with Theresa Choi. The uneasiness she’d felt during their first date, when getting-to-know-you conversation had petered out, had only increased.

She’d followed Anne’s rules. Theresa was describing her favorite movie, frame by frame. Ann asked questions. But she imagined a lifetime of this, of film studies of movies she didn’t like, of Theresa telling her she was beautiful, but not interesting.

Ann lived in a different world. She always had. Apart from others. She used to think it was because she was crazy, but now she could see that she was meant for something else.

The hug on the sidewalk outside the restaurant was warm, but neither invited the other back to her place. They parted with a lukewarm kiss. Ann compared and contrasted with Anne’s lips.

She only wanted Anne’s lips.

***

Ann could be brave in the dark in her own bedroom, clutching the phone with a sweaty hand. This was her best thinking time.

“Anne,” she said, interrupting Anne’s story of a rat she’d seen in Midtown.

“Hm?”

“Are we—“ Ann cleared her throat. “Are we dating?”

The silence on the other end lingered.

Ann filled it, “I mean, I haven’t paid you in—“

“I know,” Anne interrupted.

Ann wet her lips.

“Yes. I think so. I hadn’t—Well. I hadn’t felt dating was for me. Where my life is now. I’d given up on those travails of youth. I’m living a different life, you see.”

“That’s how I feel,” Ann said.

Another silence. Then, “I see.”

Ann felt their closeness. She smiled cautiously.

“We’re dating, then,” Anne said. “I certainly want to spend more time with you. To the exclusivity of others.”

“Me too.”

“Well. We should celebrate this. Champagne tomorrow night at my place?”

Ann’s body responded with a hungry throb. “Yes.”

“Splendid.”

Ann laughed.

***

Eliza’s voice came through the phone. “We’re having an extended weekend in the Hamptons. There will be about twenty of us. Some family you haven’t seen in ages.”

“Uh huh,” Ann said, barely listening.

“We’d like you to come—“

Ann thought of ways to say “No.”

“—and bring a friend.”

“A friend?”

“Your friend. Do you have one, Ann? Harriet said—“

“Yes.” Ann exhaled a mixture of relief and nervous confusion. “I can bring...her. But I am surprised.”

“Well, I talked to Abraham, and he set me straight. I suppose. And Albert—“

“You talked to my accountant?” Ann tasted outrage.

“He didn’t say anything, of course. But he implied you were in a very good place. And to be honest, my dear, that gave me a lot of peace of mind. I don’t care if you’re—You know. But to see you exploited, or hurt, after all you’ve been through—Your parents. You’ll come?”

“Yes.”

“I’m glad, Ann.”

 _I’m confused._ “See you soon.”

***

Anne drove them, in a sleek Lincoln that Anne assured Ann she had rented for the weekend, but impressed Ann all the same. Traffic was heavy.

“Another half hour,” Anne said, sounding apologetic.

Ann turned down the radio and shifted, facing Anne. “I’m glad you’re coming. And I’m glad I could do this. Introduce you to some high society.”

Anne’s smile was thin. “I admit, I’m intrigued. But I’ve always just wanted good conversation. And growing up with such provincial people, I thought I would be more appreciated by more educated, interesting people. That they would see me for who I was, not just for how I didn’t fit in. And then Mariana made sure I never fit in.”

Ann squeezed Anne’s arm.

“I’m sure we’ll have fun,” Anne said. “But you’re the only one I want to impress these days.”

“Consider me impressed.”

***

Anne and Ann sat across from each other, part of a large, long table. Anne charmed everyone, speaking animatedly to the people on either side of her. But again and again, her gaze returned to Ann’s. Their eyes would meet. Anne would raise her eyebrows, or make a funny face, or just smile.

Ann, who’d stayed more quiet, smiled back, feeling Anne’s gaze was only for her.

“Where did you find her?” Eliza asked Ann later, less charmed, more shrewd, but still making an effort.

“The university,” Ann said.

“Ah.” Eliza nodded. As if that settled that.

***

Alone in their room at last, Ann and Anne embraced. Sleepy, half-drunk, laughing together.

Anne gave her a squeeze. “I’m glad we’re finally alone.”

“Me, too.” Ann was suddenly less sleepy, more alert. Aroused. She kissed Anne’s neck.

Anne smiled against her hair. “I brought some things we might enjoy.”

“Did you bring the—“ Ann’s mind went to their magical night in Anne’s apartment.

“Yes,” Anne purred in her ear.

Ann turned around. “Unzip me.”

Anne drew the zipper down slowly. It was the only sound in the dusky room. The dress pooled on the floor and Ann stepped out of it. Anne knelt and helped her out of her heels. Then her slip. She kissed a path up Ann’s body, leaving a trail of fire, until she was standing again, finding Ann’s lips.

Ann nearly swooned. She gripped Anne’s jacket, opening her mouth to needy kisses. Then she broke apart.

“Go get ready,” Ann said, stepping toward the bed. “I’ll wait.”

Anne undressed perfunctorily, comfortable with Ann seeing her nakedness. She opened her bag and pulled out her purple dildo and a harness.

Ann, quite wet already, still rose on her knees to pull out the bottle of lube.

Anne fitted the harness and allowed Ann to rub lube into the shaft.

“I’ve been thinking about your cock all week,” Ann said.

Anne raised her eyebrows. “You haven’t mentioned when we’ve been... on the phone...Or even champagne the other night.”

The memory of Anne’s taste, mixed with fizzy bubbles, filled Ann’s mouth. She swallowed hard. “Why talk about something I can’t have right then?” Ann winked confidently. Then she lay on her back, her shoulders on the overly ornate pillows, her legs spread.

Without kisses, Anne stretched between Ann’s legs, sliding their bodies together, moving up until her cock brushed Ann’s center, maddeningly, without any guidance, it grazed and pressed but moved away.

“Anne.” Ann gripped Anne’s shoulders.

Anne grinned. She twisted, braced on one arm, using her hand to ease into Ann.

Ann arched her hips, welcoming. Sighing with pleasure.

Anne began lightly thrusting. In this position, the cock couldn’t reach as deep, but for the moment it was enough. Anne’s eyes hovered above Ann’s. “Missionary,” she teased.

“It’s nice to have you close.” Ann slid her hands into Anne’s hair, pulling her down for a kiss. Then she laughed, even as she shuddered at a particularly intense thrust.

“Am I a joke to you?” Anne asked, pressing her forehead to Ann’s.

“The first time we made love, you told me not to just lie there and enjoy myself.”

“Ah. The difference is, I’m enjoying myself just as much.”

Their lips met in a crushing, exploring kiss.

Ann panted. She’d been tired before, exhausted from people. She nuzzled the corner of Ann’s mouth. Their hips rocked together. “This is the beginning of a glorious night.”

“And a beautiful friendship,” Anne said.

“I hate that word.” Ann groaned, trying to pull Anne closer. Needing more. “It’s lover or bust.”

Anne put her mouth next to Ann’s ear, hot breath caressing it. “Lover it is.Lover.”

***

Ann tapped the playbill against her knee. She sat primly, feeling swallowed up by the theater seat. Wishing Anne would hurry up.

The curtain twenty feet in front of her promised excitement. Magic. Change. But there were so many people.

Anne maneuvered, somewhat rudely, through the row to sit down next to Ann. “Quite a line at the bathroom. I imagine it’ll be worse at intermission.”

“Mm.”

Anne rested her arm on the arm rest between them. Her fingers stretched to toy with Ann’s wrist. Tracing the delicate silver bracelet there.

“I made my first annual donation to the LGBT bar association, here in New York. They do good work.”

“That’s wonderful. I think some students at the university participate.” Anne caught Ann’s eye, and smiled.

“I can’t believe we’re here.” Ann clasped Anne’s hand. She worried that she was clammy.

“The Winter Garden. I remember the first time we passed by,” Anne said.

“Me too.” Ann leaned back in her chair as the lights dimmed. “I’m ready.”

The overture started in the darkness.

Next to Anne, Ann’s excitement morphed into a relaxed peace, a tickle of anticipation on the back of her neck. She took a deep breath. She deserved to be here.

She was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some of you are disappointed this has drawn to a close. I have bigger and better things coming. I hope. This was a lot of fun.


End file.
